


Kept

by becisvolatile



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Breast Fucking, Darcy does the MCU, Dodgy sex things, F/F, F/M, Masturbation, Maybe some feelings, Mostly the sex though, Multi, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Prostitution, SHIP DARCY WITH ALL THE THINGS, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becisvolatile/pseuds/becisvolatile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As jobs go, she can't complain about the benefits...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darcy Lewis: Avenger's Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those Fics that I've wanted to write forever, but held off on because 'egads, what will people think!?!'
> 
> Only I think we're beyond that now. In the chapters that follow Darcy will get jiggy with each and every Avenger - some more than once, sometimes more than one at a time. Tags are for coming chapters. 
> 
> I'd like to blame 'Deadpool Kills the Marvel Universe' because it made me want to do this... only without the killing...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As jobs go, she can't complain about the benefits...

“So… uh… Miss Lewis, is it? If you’d just like to go ahead and tell us why you’d like this job…”

Darcy knew it was going to be a hard sell. She couldn’t exactly explain that her application had been borne of the long and abiding desire for money. But then, how did one really convey passion about dishwashing?

“Well,” Darcy began as she shifted on the milk crate she was sitting on and plucked an imaginary piece of lint from the knee of her Target pantsuit. “Hygiene and hospitality are, uh, well, they’re easy things to get excited about, right?”

_Wrong._

The matchbox office was squirrelled away deep in the bowels of Stark Tower, her interviewer and prospective supervisor Mr Vaiselle kept squirming, one eye wandering toward the high neckline of the pale grey shirt she’d worn beneath her suit. Stark Tower or not, the office was a dive annexed off from the busy industrial kitchen that serviced the five cafeterias in the tower and had none of the polish that the more public areas of the building boasted. Vaiselle also lacked a lot of the suave appeal that Stark Industries was so well known for. His charcoal work pants were ill-fitting, his scuffed leather shoes came to such an extreme point that Darcy figured they’d double as excellent roach killers - not that the gleaming industrial kitchen beyond the office would ever give quarter to cockroaches, Darcy just needed some flight of fancy to transport her from the shitty office and the reality of the job that she’d come to beg for.

Why did she want the job? She didn’t, not really. Jane’s meagre grants had long stopped being able to support the both of them and now that Darcy had graduated, all manner of debt and hideous reality snapped at her heels. 

“You understand, Miss Lewis, that the position is a highly sought after one,” Vaiselle noted as he leaned forward over his desk, one hand pushing his grey-shot hair back from his brow.

Darcy had to bite her tongue to stop her from pointing out that _any_ paid position was highly sought after. For a brief second, Darcy considered the possibility that she was about to be invited onto a ‘casting couch’ for a job as a dish-pig. Vaiselle’s phone rang giving her a moment to scan the tiny office and look for a sofa. Not enough space, _thank God._

On the phone, Vaiselle listened, warbling noises that sounded vaguely like assent as he visibly paled - no mean feat for a guy who clearly didn’t see a lot of sunlight. “Uh huh,” he agreed, “Of course, Ma’am. Now?” His eyes flicked up to Darcy and narrowed. “I’ll send her right away,” he finished, voice dripping with obeisance as he set the phone down.

Darcy felt a little uneasy as he pinned her with a curious stare, as if she had somehow been elevated in his estimation.

“I regret,” he began as he closed the folder that contained her resume, “that you’ve been unsuccessful in your application, Miss Lewis. However, you are required to attend an interview regarding another matter on 89th floor.”

Darcy couldn’t hide her relief as she grabbed her handbag and slipped it over her shoulder. It wasn’t until she was almost at the door that she hesitated and turned back to Vaiselle. “89th floor? The elevator only goes to 87.”

“The top four floors are for private use, Miss Lewis. You’ll need to track back to the main reception area where you’ll be redirected to one of the private elevators.”

Back in the foyer Darcy briefly considered making a run for it. She had the feeling that working for Vaiselle would have been a nightmare anyway, but her mysterious summons to the lofty heights of the Stark Penthouse? The thought made her a little uneasy. Her gaze slide toward the massive glass doors that opened on to the street. Maybe it would just be smarter to -

A pair of broad suited shoulders blocked her view. The heavy-set security guard dangled a pass, her name and image already printed on it, from a black lanyard. “Elevator is this way,” he explained as he gently cupped her elbow and manoeuvred her back around.

The elevator ride didn’t give her much time to think things over either. 32 seconds, actually, because if you had access to repulsor technology _of course_ you’d use it to build the world’s fastest freakin’ elevator, right? Still, it was probably for the best that she wasn’t given the time to work herself up to the adequate level of anxiety. Stumbling from the elevator into the path of one immaculately dressed Pepper Potts was all Darcy needed to max out on the anxiety scale.

“ _Shit,_ ” Darcy mumbled as she shuffled forward, desperately trying to not compare her awful pantsuit to Potts’ own pristine white silk pencil skirt and blazer. Pepper only cocked one eyebrow and smiled as she extended one slim, fine-boned hand and took Darcy’s in a surprisingly firm shake.

“Darcy, I am very sorry for the change in plans,” Pepper apologized as she turned to lead Darcy away from the foyer, “We haven’t inconvenienced you, I hope?”

“Well, I _am_ very much in demand as a dishwasher, but I’m sure I can squeeze you in.”

Pepper turned back, her grin a little more genuine. Darcy would have been lying if she said she wasn't utterly starstruck. The closest she’d ever come to Pepper Potts was her morning commute, where she’d cautiously thumbed through a sticky abandoned copy of _Time_ magazine. She’d adorned the front page and a six-page special on the privatization of national security. In person, Pepper Potts seemed both smaller _and_ larger. Even though she was a petite woman, her presence seemed to exceed the dimensions of the small foyer that Darcy was being led through.

“You drink coffee?” Pepper threw the question over her shoulder.

“Religiously,” Darcy answered.

“Excellent, I’ll have some brought to us.”

They moved through a set of solid beechwood doors into a large office. It was sparsely furnished, filled with light and fresh-cut flowers. It was almost certainly Pepper’s private office. Pepper bypassed the desk and led Darcy to a sofa and low-slung coffee table. 

Darcy’s heart hurtled up into her throat when she sighted the suited man, ass casually perched against a window frame as he lazily fiddled with an irregularly shaped Rubiks cube. The cube periodically beeped, heralding the repositioning of the colors. Christ, she couldn’t solve _one side_ of a regular cube, she’d stand no chance with one that kept changing on her.

“Tony, _out._ ” Pepper said as she settled onto the sofa.

“Nope,” he said with a grin as he set the cube aside and crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze raked slowly over Darcy, taking in her curves and her suspiciously narrowed eyes. “ _Nice,_ ” he murmured softly with a small nod.

“Fine. Stay. But you don’t get to speak,” Pepper warned as she reached for a slim folder on the coffee table, “First up, Darcy, non-disclosure. Very standard, stipulates that you’re not to disclose what we’re about to discuss to any external agencies.”

Darcy leaned forward and blinked down at the agreement. What was about to happen? What was so secretive that even _discussing_ it was out? She looked around the room, surely someone like Pepper or Stark should have a few lackeys floating around? Maybe a secretary?

“I’m asking you to sign away the next ten minutes, Darcy,” Pepper prompted gently. “Not your whole life.”

“ _Not yet,_ ” muttered Stark from his perch.

“ _Tony, I swear…_ ” Pepper sounded less like a CEO and more like a soccer mom. 

For Darcy, curiosity won out as she quickly scribbled her signature onto the paper. There was a pause in proceedings as their coffee was brought in - Darcy didn’t dwell on how they knew exactly how she took hers - when the young man who’d brought it left, he closed the door to the office firmly, leaving Darcy alone with Pepper and Tony.

“I’m sure you’d like to know what’s going on,” Pepper spoke. “You were flagged in the system when your application downstairs came in. You were already on our records for your association with Thor.”

“Have - have I done something wrong?”

“Not at all. We simply feel that we might have an alternate opening-” Over by the window Tony tried to cover his laugh with a cough, “-an alternate _position-_ ” His laughing intensified, “…another job that might be of interest to you,” Pepper finished with a pointed look toward Tony.

“Not dishes?”

“Not quite. Please understand that the offer we’re about to make is not on behalf of Stark Industries, but on behalf of the Avengers. You’ve a proven history of discretion, at any time you could have taken your experiences with Thor and sold the story to the media. You didn’t.”

“Of course not,” Darcy pushed her coffee aside with a frown, “He is my _friend._ ”

Pepper smiled softly, “He holds you in a particularly high regard also. His recommendation is one of the reasons you are here today.”

“But here for _what_ , exactly?” Darcy was willing to bet that it was a rare occasion that Pepper Potts looked so uncomfortable.

“Some employers like to provide their employees with perks,” Pepper explained shifting a little awkwardly on the sofa, “Gym memberships, spa treatments, pool tables in the cafeteria. That sort of thing. Recently we’ve started to notice some - _ahem -_ needs not being met. The team is constantly under threat, they operate in unimaginable danger, adrenaline and emotions are high and all of that is frequently played out in the crucible of the public eye. It’s a recipe for disaster.”

Darcy wasn’t sure where things were heading. Not really, but something about the way that Pepper had started to nervously unbutton and re-button her blazer made her a little suspicious. “So you want me to…?”

“Provide a service. A sexual service. For a highly select group of individuals. Having you here at the tower would be safe, discreet, readily-available.”

Had Pepper just put Darcy’s sexual services on par with a pool table in the lunch room? “You’ve got to be fucking with me?” Darcy choked.

“Not yet, Lewis,” Tony interjected, “But we’d very much like to.”

“ _Tony!”_ Pepper snapped once more as she slipped a sheet from the folder on the coffee table, “You’d be financially compensated, of course. Full lodging in the tower, fully negotiable terms of employment. Only the core six may avail themselves of your, uh, _time_. You have the iron-clad right of refusal at any point… you can list sexual limitations…” Pepper continued to highlight the perks of the role as she slid the sheet of paper toward Darcy and pointed to a figure midway down the page. It was more than enough to bring water to her eyes.

“A girl could make one helluva dent in her student loans with that,” Darcy mused aloud.

Pepper’s nail slipped down the page to highlight another line, “No need, they’ll be taken care of at the three month mark. The initial contract is for six months.”

Darcy pressed one shaking hand to her temple, it was insane. Not to mention the fact that it was _prostitution…_ for a selection of the world’s hottest individuals. Shit, she’d banged more guys in her senior year and all she’d got out of that was a UTI. “But why the Hell would you want me for this? What makes you think I’d be any good?”

“What makes you think you’d be bad?” asked Pepper as she gently touched Darcy’s knee. “Of course you can have as much time as you need to-” 

“Where do I sign?”

 

* * *

 

 

Darcy wasn’t sure what she expected. Part of her had been terrified that a ravenous pack of superheroes would fall upon her and ravish her. 

Part of her had _hoped_ that a ravenous pack of superheroes would fall upon her and ravish her. 

It was a confusing time. Was she supposed to hang a shingle outside of her new apartment, declaring ‘fallen woman within’? Maybe stick a red light outside of her door?

It had been four days since she’d signed the dotted line (several of them, in fact). She’d moved into her new apartment, shocked by the size of it until she’d come to the sobering realization that the size wasn't for her comfort, but for the comfort of her visitors. Still, it was nice to have two bedrooms, one that was exclusively hers and a larger one that was… well, it was where the magic would happen. Probably.

Her contract stated that she could be required to ‘work’ up to 20 hours in a week, with no less than two hours notice and not for a block of time exceeding four hours. Really, she figured the four hour thing should have gone without saying, but then superhuman dudes probably had a lot going on when it came to staying power so that clause was probably in the interest of her vagina’s continued happiness. There turned out to be a bit more involved in becoming the kept woman of the Avenger’s tower. Pepper had given Darcy a phone, pre-loaded with an itinerary that had ranged from a medical (complete with patented anti-super sperm contraceptive shot), to a day spa, to a morning spent trawling lingerie and sex shops, the boutique kind where a vibrator cost more than her first car.

It wasn’t hard work, it wasn’t really work at all. But once she’d finally shifted all her things into the apartment and settled into her new role, Darcy had been left with far too much time to sit around and await her first caller. She’d spent half of her forth morning on the phone to Jane, who was ‘doing the science’ in Helsinki. Darcy skirted the subject of Thor, mostly because it still made Jane uncomfortable. The two had barely spoken since Sif and Jane’s wedding in Auckland, Thor had sat uneasily throughout the ceremony, leaving almost as soon as the cake had been cut. In the end, he’d bowed out amicably… but Darcy suspected that was owing to the single night Jane and Sif had let him share their marriage bed.

After the call Darcy had shuffled barefoot around her apartment, occasionally moving the to window to stare outside. She couldn’t stay by the glass for long, she’d never been afraid of heights, but then she’d never lived on the 83rd floor. The city kicked on below and Darcy was fine in her airy, light apartment. She didn’t feel trapped, rather she felt cloistered, cosseted…

…but all the same she was itching to get started _._ That was it. She simply wanted to be put to the purpose she’d picked for herself. There were books she could read, courses she could do. She wasn’t limited to the tower, she could go out at any time. It was just that she felt like she was waiting, balancing on a ledge and caught in a place where she couldn’t be at ease until she’d been pulled into this new phase of her life.

God, what if none of them were even interested? What if she was like an air hockey table in the break room that nobody ever wanted to play with?

Nah, who was she kidding? Air hockey was the bomb. Everybody fucking loved air hockey.

Darcy flopped onto her generously stuffed white sofa and threw her legs over the arm as she stretched to grab the TV remote. She wasn’t going to wait around nervously. She’d watch some Dr Phil, order some pizza, maybe go for a-

The apartment rattled as someone thumped on her door.

 _Everybody fucking loves air hockey_ , Darcy smiled nervously as she got to her feet.

 


	2. Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...are you not a woman fashioned for bed sport?”

The apartment shook again as someone pounded on the door. 

Darcy was slow to open it, her gut twisted as she considered that maybe she really wasn’t prepared for what would come next… it was surprising that she felt only a flood of relief when she found Thor grinning amiably down at her as his frame filled the doorway.

It didn’t take any artifice for Darcy to throw herself against his chest, her arms wrapping around his middle. It wasn’t until she saw a familiar face that she realized how tough being in the city alone had been. She buried her face against his ribs and breathed in the familiar scent of ozone and citrus, it was a scent charged with power. It should be criminal that any man smell as good as Thor… not to mention how he _looked_. He’d gotten bigger, if that was even possible, chest straining at a cardigan blazer that might have looked ridiculous on any mere mortal but elevated Thor to some sort of pornographic librarian/sea-captain hybrid. His thick thighs tested the limits of a pair of navy trousers and his hair was held back from his face in a messy bun. Darcy released a breath and sank a little further into the hug.

“What is amiss, Darcy?” Thor’s chest rumbled as he voiced his concern, “Are you unhappy?”

Darcy pulled away with a single-shouldered shrug. “Just nice to see a familiar face.”

He frowned down at her, clearly not happy with the answer, and pulled her gently into the apartment. “Are you… ill-treated?”

“God, what? No!” Darcy flushed as Thor moved toward the sofa and pulled her down beside him. “It’s… well, really, I haven't been _treated_ at all yet.”

Thor’s eyebrow kicked high, when he looked like that there was no way anyone could doubt his regal origins. “You want for attention?”

God, that sounded trashy. It _was_ trashy.

Darcy’s eyes slipped away guiltily as she shifted uncomfortably on the cozy cream sofa. She’d taken a lot of care with her appearance that day, much more than usual, and had done so since moving to the tower. Her lace and silk underwear had been carefully plucked from the impressive selection that Pepper’s own personal shopper had sent. So far Darcy had only cycled through the one set and her own ‘gettin’ lucky’ set, for some reason she was reluctant to start running through all the added bonuses (like the credit line at Net-a-Porter) that came with the new gig. The fitted maroon knit dress was also hers and the floral linen scarf she’d looped loosely around her neck had been a miracle vintage find at a swap meet. She drew the line at wearing heels in her own apartment, instead letting her freshly pedicured feet enjoy the luxe cream white carpet on the floors. She’d taken extra time to actually dry her hair with a little serum, so that it fell softly. Just the smallest hint of makeup and perfume pushed her right up to the ‘as good as it gets’ line.

It wasn’t like she screamed ‘call girl’, but she was ready. _Beyond ready._

“Darcy?” Thor prompted softly, bumping his own thigh against her bare knee. 

“I just… I mean, you _do_ know why I’m here, right?” she asked nervously as she took off her glasses and set them aside on the nearby coffee table.

Thor nodded, no sign of modesty or discomfort. “Brave warriors have need of soothing nights, little Darcy,” he reached out, immense palm settling on her knee, thumb sweeping over the pale skin of her thigh, “I will not deny that I have long considered you to be comely, _buxom_. Forgive me if I misspeak, but are you not a woman fashioned for bed sport?”

Darcy tried to suppress the inelegant choking noise that bubbled up from her throat. She regarded his profile, his hair had grown longer, she could tell by the few wisps that had escaped the elastic securing his bun. He had aged too, or at least appeared to. Lines bracketed his mouth and a small fading scar curled around his temple. Darcy reached up to trace the mark, her fingertips then trailing down over the sharp slope of his cheekbone. “They didn’t exactly have to twist my arm to get me here,” she admitted softly. 

His answering smile melted the worry and wear from his face. “Turn,” he commanded.

Darcy shifted on the sofa, her pulse in her throat. He snagged on edge of her scarf between his fingertips, slowly slipping it from her neck. Behind her, the sofa dipped as he moved and she wondered if she was supposed to finish undressing. She’d just reached for the hem of her dress when Thor stilled her, dropping a delicate, long golden chain over her shoulder. It unfurled across her breast ending in a pendant dominated by a pale red stone and bordered by delicate black seed pearls. Darcy gasped, wanting to throw the obviously expensive gift clear across the room. “Is that a _ruby!?_ ”

“Of course not,” Thor scoffed as he swatted her hands aside and moved to secure the necklace around her neck, “It’s a red diamond. Much rarer.”

_Of course._ “Thor, I really can’t… I’m already getting paid for…” Darcy trailed off, not quite sure how to phrase what she needed to say.

Thor fastened the necklace, shifting it until it came to rest on her chest, then lifting and shaking out her hair to fan it about her shoulders. One thick arm swept around her waist, lifting her, bringing her back as he reclined on the sofa and parted his knees wider so that her bottom nestled between his thighs and her legs flew up to rest on a cushion. “I must make one thing very clear to you, little Darcy. It is a poor man indeed who would let another keep his woman. Take the gifts, Darcy, for they are token of my respect and regard.” One immense hand came to settle on the slight curve of her stomach while the fingers of the other wound into her hair lifting it back from one ear so that he could lean low and whisper to her, his lips grazing the sensitive shell of her ear. “I show great deference to any woman who attends me. Shall I show you?”

Darcy’s mouth opened, but no sound came out as those long fingers and massive palm coasted down between her hips, between her thighs, pausing for a few moments to toy with the hem of her dress. Thor’s fingers waited patiently there until she got the hint and widened her legs. His hand was so large that she hesitated, trying to work out the mechanics of how to neatly open her thighs but still accommodate the width of his knuckles. In the end, her excitement took charge and she found herself pressing one bare foot into the soft cushion of the sofa and the other opened, _opened,_ until her toes were pressing against the coffee table. She consoled herself that at least from where he was, he couldn’t see how wantonly she was spread. 

She was wrong, of course, and gave a dismayed little mewl when she remembered the artfully shabby expansive gilt mirror that dominated the small foyer and seemed to have been positioned with just this purpose in mind. “Did I not say I would _show_ you?” Thor murmured as he nuzzled her neck, lips warm against her skin. She could have sworn she felt the fleeting dart of his tongue too.

He wasted no time in slipping his fingers over the deep red silk of her panties, fingers learning the dips and secret places beyond the fabric. 

“Such a pretty little quim,” he mused as one fingertip traced the indent between the lips of her pussy.

Darcy gave a breathless little laugh when she heard the outmoded word. 

“No?” Thor asked as he continued to stroke her through the silk. “A pretty _cunt_ , then?”

The filthy word robbed Darcy of all ability to reply. The pressure of his fingers increased, the increasingly intimate touches pressing the silk closer causing the fabric to grow dark as she became wetter. Their eyes caught in the mirror, Thor’s eyebrow quirked as his gaze slid down to survey the damp fabric. The cocky little grin that followed was well earned.

Dexterous fingers tugged the silk aside as he continued to stroke and pet without any real focus. In fact, he seemed to be more intent on tracing his tongue over the delicate skin just beneath her ear. Those lazy fingers and searching tongue pushed Dracy until her breaths were coming in short pants, her toes were gripping at the edge of the coffee table and her polished nails were digging into his hard thighs.

“Shall I show you a trick?” Thor asked as he circled his slicked fingers.

“I swear to God, Thor, if you pull a quarter out of there…”

Thor’s chest rumbled with contained laughter. “ _Watch._ ”

Darcy looked down her body, past where her dress was gathered around her hips to where her panties had been shoved aside and Thor’s fingers danced over the bare skin of her pussy. He parted her lewdly with his index and middle fingers, his other arm wrapping around her waist so that the index finger of that hand could hover over her. “Are you watching?”

Like she could look anywhere else.

He continued to part her as he pressed his finger against her cunt, that first much-needed intrusion bringing her to buck her hips up off the sofa, just a little. His thick finger remained, moving within her, slipping and seeking. Thor crooking his finger and Darcy cried out as he pulled free, his calloused fingertip dragging along inside her as he withdrew. He shushed her sad little whimper as his finger slipped free and Darcy was left to look down at the thin clear thread of arousal that still clung to his fingertip connecting him to her pussy. She waited for the thin thread to snap, but could only watch in amazement as platinum gossamer-fine streaks, _miniature lightning_ , rolled and skipped down the thread until she felt the impossible sensation of warmth and a charged sort of stirring near her clit. Her cry was one of shock and intense pleasure, she gripped Thor’s thigh more tightly, widening her legs further as a fine sheen of sweat broke out in the small of her back and along her thighs. Her hips bucked and she continued with a throaty, needy sort of sobbing and watched his fingertip move closer to her clit until she was nothing but a quaking mess of shuddering limbs, desperate for him to close the last inch between his finger and her clit, but unsure if she could really handle the otherworldly pleasure of it…

“Thor, _please_ ,” she cried and he took pity on his helpless little lover, bracketing her clit with _two_ sensationally charged fingertips and letting her ride out her _devastating_ climax. Darcy’s head flopped back against his chest as a few final whimpers tumbled from her mouth and Thor leaned in to catch them with his own. The heated kiss was the only thing he had taken from her during heir time.

Surely, Darcy’s foggy mind started to realize, that made her the worst ‘escort’ ever?

_Here, Darcy, have some priceless jewelry. Here, Darcy, have a supernatural orgasm… all on me._

Darcy managed to grab his hair with a shaky hand as she turned in his lap, half crawling up his chest, and deepened the kiss, her tongue slipping against his. Her hand was slipping down over his stomach ( _muthafuckin’ ABS!_ ) when he caught her wrist and stood, easily setting her onto her feet as though she weighed nothing. He twined his fingers with her much smaller ones and tugged her toward the bedrooms. He paused and turned back to her gaze drifting over her as he slowly and deliberately sucked his fingers clean. “If you would permit,” he finished sucking his index finger and gestured toward the larger bedroom, “I should like to find enjoyment in your body, little Darcy. And I would hope that you too would take your pleasure from mine…” he punctuated the statement by tapping a hand against his chest.

_What a fucking offer._

Darcy tugged on the hand that she held, taking charge and leading him in to the master bedroom. The bedroom had many fascinating talking points: the king bed, heaped with pristine white linen and a score of pillows and cushions was elevated in the center of the room on a _bloody raised dais_. She suspected the painting above the bed was a Tamara de Lempika and the thought made her giddy. The bathroom beyond was finished with slabs of rose-quartz marble, a walk-in tub that she could probably swim laps in, a rainforest shower that she could _run_ laps in and antique brass fittings… but the point she needed to make was that none of it could tear her attention from Thor, the gentle giant who allowed her to lead him over to the bed, then tug at his blazer until he sat on the edge, hands resting on his thighs.

She stepped forward, nudging his knees further apart with her own and shivering as he watched her with a hungry sort of focus. Her fingers shook as she reached forward to grip the tie that secured his hair, pulling at it, working it with her fingers when it snagged and tossing it aside to trace her nails through his hair and over his scalp, slipping through the remarkable golden strands and enjoying the weight of the thick hair in her hands. Thor dropped his forehead against her breasts as she worked, a small sigh of relaxation escaping his lips as his broad shoulders eased marginally.

It occurred to Darcy that she had no idea what battles Thor was facing, what weight he carried with him daily. Her lips grazed his temple as her hands skimmed down his sides and clutched both his knitted blazer and the fitted cotton shirt beneath. His arms came up at the silent command and Darcy tugged the clothes free. She was a little robbed of breath as she watched him lower his arms and admired the play of muscle there. There was a lot more bulk to him than there had been the last time she’d seen him in a similar state of undress, eager fingers fanned out over his chest taking in the hard terrain of muscle and power. Just touching him was probably enough to get her off again, she raked her fingernails across his nipples, humming with contentment. 

“ _Wench_ ,” Thor moaned, eyes closing while he offered her a sloppy grin and fell back onto his elbows, his feet still planted on the floor.

The desire to crawl all over him like a jungle gym was strong, but Darcy marshalled what little remained of her self control and drew her fingers down to his belt buckle, slipping it free before oh-so-carefully unbuttoning and lowering his fly. She held her giddy nerves at bay just long enough to coax his hips up so that she could slip his trousers - not a damn stitch of underwear - down and yank his boots free. Long seconds passed when she finally stood at the foot of the bed and surveyed Thor in all of his spectacular, naked _glory._ It wasn’t a surprise that he was so well-endowed. A _challenge_ , maybe, but certainly no surprise. The guy was a _fucking God._ Still, it was more than a little alarming that she had to use both hands to take charge of his stiff cock. For the best, then, that she was so ridiculously wet.

Her fine fingers encircled him as she dipped her head to lick at the flushed head of his cock. She worked at him, fist growing tighter and hands moving quicker until his skin glowed and the muscles of his abdomen jumped as she tended to him. “Little love,” he croaked as he passed a shaking hand over his face, “Take pity. Take _me._ ”

Another offer she wasn’t likely to refuse. She didn't fuck around as she whipped off her dress, discarded her bra and shuffled free of her soaked panties. Thor cracked an eye, watching the neat sway of her breasts as she stooped to pick up her underwear and toss is aside. He was a mountainous man, far larger than any she’d been with in _every_ way. It wasn’t an elegant scramble to get herself up onto him, she felt a series of shocks where their skin touched… and _God_ there was so much skin to touch. It was an odd sort of intimacy to broach with a man she considered a dear friend. Yet when she finally straddled him, her bottom resting against his thighs as she gripped his cock, he gifted her with the warmest of smiles as his hand reached for and encompassed her breast (who even _had_ hands that big?!). Still friends, then, just a very different sort of friend. 

Darcy took charge of those unsettling first few moments as she guided the fat head of his shaft to her pussy and eased herself down onto him with great caution. To his credit, Thor didn’t move an inch though he obviously was eager to do so. Darcy rocked her hips, panting softly as she accommodated the sheer size of him. His hands slipped to her hips as his chest heaved and she leaned forward to brace herself against him. 

He began with just a few tentative bumps of the hip, his eyes catching on Darcy’s breasts as they bounced in response. It wasn’t enough for either of them. Darcy fought to grip his hips with the insides of her thighs as she rode him harder, his own thrusts coming up further, quicker, taking more and more with each stroke. They fucked for as long as she could stand it, until the sounds of skin and sweat and lust overtook the room, until she fought to keep fucking him as her second climax rolled through her, until she collapsed on Thor’s chest and _just listened_ to the thundering of his heart as he hauled her hips down and came in her with a brutal cry.

The room settled around them. Darcy’s breasts smooshed against his chest and their sweat-slick skin stuck together. She wriggled and shifted clear of Thor’s half-hard cock, too sensitive to handle much more than the wet, warm mess cooling on her thighs. Thor grabbed her as she fidgeted, moving her until she curled against his side, one leg draped over his hip, and he could secure one arm around her, his fingertips tracing over the curve of her ass. “Little Darcy,” he cooed tiredly, “I did not reckon that you could delight so. What a fool I am,” he kissed the top of her head, “I thought having you summoned would free me of distraction. That I could slake my lust and be done.” He filled his roaming hand with her ass cheek. 

Darcy hid a grin against his chest and mentally awarded herself with a gold star. She was almost asleep when he spoke again.

“Do you truly fear that you will be unwanted here?”

Darcy shrugged under the weight of his arm.

“You need not fear that you have not been… _enjoyed_ by my peers. Ms Potts’ directions were firm, you were not to be contacted until you had had several days to adjust to your new home.”

As if on cue, her new cell chimed somewhere in the lounge room.

Beside her, Thor lifted his head from the bed and sniffed the air. “Someone is at the door,” he noted with no particular urgency as he gripped her ass tighter.

“How do you know?” Darcy asked as she tried to sit up. Thor only held her tighter.

He tapped his nose with his spare hand.

“You can smell them? _Ew_.”

“You’d not say that if you knew how intoxicating you smell when you reach your zenith,” he murmured as he turned his face to tuck his nose into her neck, inhaling deeply.

“Who is it?” Darcy wriggled against his side. “Tell me. _Tell meeeee_ …”

Thor let out a theatrical sigh as he swatted her behind. “Are you not satisfied? Clearly,” Thor grinned as he rolled over to cage Darcy beneath his body, “My work here is not yet done.”


	3. Peepshow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problem wasn’t what she was doing. 
> 
> The problem was that she liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Darcy gets back to her scientist handling roots in this one. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the comments and feedback left up until this point, I'm so pleased that I am not alone in my depravity. I love hearing from you all!
> 
> Shoutout again to just-mindy who helps me make sense of my late night-ramblings and forgives me for not being American.

Darcy was pinned on her side beneath the crushing weight of Thor’s arm. It didn’t seem to bother her sleeping self, but consciousness brought with it the very real fear of asphyxiation. Each time she exhaled she was less able to drag the same amount of air  _back into_ her lungs. Her breasts also posed a problem. Arranged on her side, as she was, the top breast rounded wonderfully into a nigh perfect teardrop, her nipple peaked in the climate controlled air. The other?  _Disaster_ . Absolute blobby pancake half plopped onto the mattress. Not to mention the cleavage that a man would require a team of experienced Sherpas to navigate his way free from.

She wasn’t sure if it was the breast situation (undesirable) or the breathing thing (uncomfortable, potentially fatal) or even the fact that she had exactly four hours before meeting the next cab off the Avenger’s rank. If there was a point of no return, she was pretty sure that was it. Banging one Avenger? Who happened to be a _friend?_ Forgivable. Two? It was a slippery slope that led to $5 hand jobs at a truck stop. Probably.

Only… she didn’t exactly feel like she was on the path to ruin. Mostly she felt a little giddy at the thought of another man in her hands, another chance to prove that the opportunity she’d been given wasn’t going to be wasted. The guilt was there, sure. But it was a peculiar guilt bred of the notable lack of guilt at her current and foreseeable sexual antics.

Darcy fought for another breath and resolved to take the bull by the horns. Thor showed no signs of stirring and since he had little regard for _any_ of the rules - including the one about over-nighters - she was going to have to give him a reason to _rise…_

The problem, Darcy decided as she let her free hand walk across the taut golden skin of his hip, wasn’t what she was doing. 

The problem was that she _liked_ it.

  


* * *

  


Darcy was pondering the long minutes in which Pepper had walked her through her contract. She’d hurtled through it, nothing setting off alarms in her head until she’d came to a series of names. Her pen tapped twice on the name Bruce Banner.

“…as in…” Darcy puffed out her cheeks and held up her clawed hands aloft in a manner reminiscent of Bela Lugosi.

“The Hulk,” Pepper confirmed with a nod.

Darcy eyes had widened as she shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Over on his perch Tony had whistled between his teeth. “I’m all about a girl who likes a challenge,” he smirked, “But you can rest assured you’ll only be meeting Banner, not _the other guy_.”

Nearly a six days later Darcy had tried to tactfully push Thor from the apartment then jumped into the shower. Stark’s housekeeping staff proved both their efficiency and creepiness when they’d straightened the place out and changed out the used bedding while she’d been in the bathroom. While being wildly convenient, Darcy had the feeling that it was a service she was going to put a stop to. She’d change her own damn sheets.

Dressing was a bitch. She wasn’t used to dressing to seduce or please, so she made a compromise and finally returned to the walk in closet that housed her new clothing for some underwear. It was a sign of the times that more than half of the wardrobe was made up of exotic lingerie. She’d avoided delving into the collection before then, but the desire to impress was oddly compelling so she snatched up a brightly colored Agent Provocateur lace set and put them on. The dress was her own, a red button-down shirtdress that she cinched with a wide black belt.

Banner’s text had been vague and polite. _Darcy, are you available over the coming days? Bruce._

_Anytime after 12 xx_

It had taken her too long to phrase the response. Not owing to any reluctance on her part, but a world of indecision about ending the message with the ‘ _xx’._ Was that too flirty? She wasn’t accustomed to playing the coquette. But, _shit_ , wasn’t that her _job_ now?

The two x’s had made the cut. Three has seemed too eager, none too abrupt. She needed her text to say ‘I’m available, not easy’… and if she spent much long agonizing over those two fucking x’s she’d be needing _therapy_.

She padded nervously across the lush carpet of the lounge room and eyed the door. It was 11:58 and her heart was in her throat. Her emerald green (ha!) painted toenails clenched and unclenched in the thick beige carpet as she fought not to chew on a thumbnail. 

It wasn’t like she was about to bang the Hulk himself. Tony had promised that Banner had his terrifying counterpart under wraps. Still, it was different to being with Thor. There was no common ground here, no way to pretend that what was happening was just a meeting of friends. They’d never met and they were about to fuck.

Darcy paused and gently pressed her fingertips against the juncture of her thighs. Even through her dress and pretty underwear she felt heat and excitement there. Probably it wasn’t polite to have drenched your underwear before the guy you’re meant to sleep with was even in the room.

“ _Calm your tits, Lewis_ ,” she muttered to herself.

Despite the wealth of information she’d been able to Google on the subject of the Hulk, when it came to Banner himself information was scarce. His notoriety meant that most of his research and papers were easy to access and while Darcy wasn’t fully able to grasp the implications of his findings she knew enough from her time with Jane to realize that he was a scientific mover and shaker. It was a pity that his spectacular anger management issues and his ties to the now defunct SHIELD had cast a shadow over his credibility. In recent months there had been a resurgence of articles suggesting that he was dangerous, a potentially devastating threat to the public. His work in New York, the Hulk’s impressive display of both power and control, were now forgotten and all of SHIELD’s assurance and vouching weren’t worth the paper they’d been written on. 

It was plain that the media surrounding him wasn’t going to yield any facts worth knowing and the yawning gape in public information made her uncomfortable. How much of his alter ego bled into his personality? Was he violent? Would he be _rough?_

Would she be okay with that?

Her eyes slid to the recessed wet bar and she considered grabbing a drink, only she was more of a binge drinker and less of a ‘drink to cope with social anxiety’ type. Plus it seemed like a terrible idea and probably unprofessional to boot. 

She was halfway into the kitchen to grab a Diet Coke when someone - Bruce - knocked at the door.

He wasn’t nervous, not like she was as she fumbled the door handle and had to awkwardly dance out of the way to let him in. There was something immensely familiar about his bearing and Darcy was taken back to her days of Jane-wrangling. Bruce had the same air of neglect about him, even though he’d made some effort. He was freshly showered, his wet hair uncombed and he wore something that was just a little past a 5 o’clock shadow. His khaki trousers and navy button-down were rumpled, but freshly laundered. He smelled vaguely of fabric softener with just the hint of some sort of vetiver based aftershave.

In stark contrast to her fears, he gave off a sort of unflappable calmness that had her gently letting go of a tense breath, offering up a sunny smile and holding out her hand. “Hi, Doctor Banner?” God, she hoped she wasn’t going to have to call him that. It would definitely interrupt the flow of any potential sexy talk… or give it a creepy sort of bent.

He gripped her palm in his own and Darcy was relieved to find it was just a little damp. At least he wasn’t completely unaffected by what they were doing. “Bruce is fine. And you’re Darcy?”

“Sure am,” she followed him into the apartment.

“They… uh… they weren't wrong about you. You’re stunning.”

She blew a noisy raspberry and waved off the comment. _Christ,_ she cursed herself, _not sexy!_

She sucked a breath in between and looked around her apartment, feeling a little lost. “Drink?” she asked.

“Water would be great,” Bruce said as he perched himself against the arm of the sofa.

Darcy used her time in the kitchen to gather a little of her cool, she returned and handed him the glass. “So, you’re here for an hour or so?”

Bruce sipped at his water before answering. “Probably not that long. Tony explained about me?” 

Darcy searched her memory and recalled Tony’s assurances that she was safe with Bruce, that there’d be no unexpected shifts in his… er, _demeanor._ She shrugged with a single shoulder.“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Good. Great,” he leaned forward to set the glass down. “Should we talk it over or are you…”

“I’m fine. We can start now if you’d like?”  To Darcy’s way of thinking it seemed wiser just to jump right in.

His relieved smile told her that she’d made the right call, he passed his palms down the front of his thighs and spoke, eyes fixed on the floor. “You’ve got, uh, some toys or…”

Darcy blinked, momentarily taken aback. Still, if that was what he wanted… “In the bedroom, yeah. Would you like to-”

“Watch,” he confirmed with a jerky nod. “I watch. You, uh, play.”

“Yeah, okay, cool,” Darcy murmured, more to herself, as she turned and wandered from the room. There was a slight delay before Bruce followed her dragging a chair that he’d grabbed from the small table by the kitchen.

Darcy crossed the room and hesitated as she stood in front of the tall slim chest of drawers. She turned back to where Bruce had sat himself on the chair at the foot of the bed. 

“Any preferences?” she asked as she jabbed a thumb toward the drawers.

“Lady’s choice.”  


“How about we pick one each?” Darcy offered. He seemed okay with the idea and joined her as she slipped oped the top drawer. It was oddly intimate standing there shoulder to shoulder and looking down at the retina-searing array of neon luxe sex toys. Darcy was no stranger to a little battery-operated assistance, but it seemed the sort of thing you got into after months of seeing someone, not at the first meeting.  


Darcy made a nervous grab for a slim contoured magenta Lelo vibrator, but Bruce took his time eventually passing his fingers over an ornate glass dildo. It was a tapered handblown piece, wound with textured reds and curved to please. Really it was so pretty it looked more like it belonged at the Met than in a drawer. “Awesome. _Cool._ ” Darcy mumbled as she took it from his hand and turned away.   


“Darcy?” His warm palm touched her shoulder and she turned back as he held up a small tube of lube that he had found in the corner of the drawer. “Since I won’t be… well, just in case.”

She was already at the giddy, heated stage where arousal wasn’t going to be an issue, but she took it anyway because there was no such thing as too much lube.

It took a few seconds for her to arrange herself on the edge of the bed, she sat pertly with the toys and lube close by and clasped her hands in her lap.

“Have you done this before?” Bruce asked as he settled back on to the chair, knees wide and palms resting over his thighs.

She’d only spent half of her formative years getting the hang of it. She dropped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes questioningly.

“Tony said that you weren’t exactly… _this_ isn’t the trade that you would have picked for yourself. You’re a bit green?”

Ah. “Don’t sweat it, Bruce,” she smiled as she reached for her belt and slipped it free, “I know my way around down here.” She pointed to her crotch. “Of course, if you’d like to direct…”

“I’ll let you know.”

But he remained silent as she worked at the many buttons that held together the front of her dress, slipping each one free in sequence until she parted the dress to leave it hanging open at her sides. He smoothed a hand over his mouth as she reclined slightly and she took it as approval over her selection of lingerie. She took her time and let her toes drag along the floor as she parted her knees and lifted her hips a little. His eyes followed her hand as she dragged it up to her breasts and tucked a single fingertip into each lace cup to coax it lower until each nipple peaked over the edge of the bra. That same fingertip traced down over her chest, past her stomach and hip until she could move it over the vibrant lace that just barely guarded her from his gaze. 

Bruce’s face was frozen, his features locked down, but his eyes danced, glowed, moved with her finger and didn’t miss a trick. The first hint of pressure from her finger came with the shocking realization of just how turned on she was, how sensitive and wet she already was.

“Off,” Bruce ordered softly. “Give them to me.”

Darcy battled a moment’s coyness before reaching down to slip the underwear over her hips ad down her thighs until she was able to dangle the panties from one foot. She pressed one hand over her now bared pussy and stretched her leg, vaguely intending to slip the underwear - and her foot - along Bruce’s surprisingly thick thigh. She wasn’t even near when he reached out with two fingers and snagged them. For the first time since she’d sat on the bed, his attention left her as he looked down at the bright lace in his hand. He passed his thumb over the slick spot at the crotch, his eyebrow kicked up and he smiled a small, private, smile before tossing the underwear aside and ghosting his thumb across his lips, presumably transferring the taste of her.

Her breath escaped in a soft little ‘ _puh_ ’ as she watched the hotness play out. It was getting all too easy to forget that this was supposed to be her _job._

 _Time to get to work then._ Her fingers still hid her from his gaze as he returned his attention to her, she moved her feet wider but he shook his head, leaning forward in his seat.

“Toes to the edge of the bed, Darcy. Wide apart.” Again, there was that calm, but she didn’t miss the twitch at his jaw. “Bend your knees, scoot your ass to your heels. Christ, _yes._ There. _That._ ”

Again she was exposed, just like she had been with Thor and she was starting to understand that exposure was the name of the game. It was the thing that cost her the most. The money, the apartment, the clothes, it wasn’t for the sex. It was for those raw moments where she had to hold shame at bay. For the seconds where she had to risk showing them who, _what_ she was… for all the times she would run the risk of _finding out_ who she is.

She ran two fingers down over the already slightly parted lips of her bare pussy and spread them further, displaying the slick rosy hues of her cunt. With her spare hand she felt around until her finger tapped the tiny tube and paused just long enough to spread a scant few drops of the lube onto her fingers. She started at her clit and spread it lower from there, taking her sweet time as she went. Between her bent knees she could see Bruce still watching her intently, his breath coming a little slower, his wide shoulders leaning in a little closer. If she extended her leg she’d easily be able to pass her toes along the growing bulge of his cock.

Still, he was so into the whole ‘live show’ deal that Darcy carried on. The vibrator was first, she started it at a low setting and touched it to herself, letting the toy catch and spread the lube and her own wetness. Her toes curled when she glanced it over her clit and her hips jerked a little, she was so ready to come, already shamefully close to being done. But it wasn’t about her, it was about Bruce, so she slid the vibe lower and pressed the buzzing head against the entrance of her pussy.

Her moan was drowned out by Bruce’s own growl as he _finally_ reached for his belt and fly. Darcy pressed just an inch of the toy into herself as she watched him grip his neatly cut cock. The contoured silicone between her thighs was fine, but there was something more than a little desirable about the pink-flushed length of Bruce’s cock. She licked her lips as she watched him tighten his grip, the thick head growing darker as he touched himself, pre-come welling enticingly. For a second Darcy forgot that _she_ was the one putting on a show.

“The other one, I want to see…”

His grip tightened as his words trailed off. Darcy set aside the vibrator and reached cautiously for the glass toy. It was cold to the touch so she gathered it between her hands, rolling it to warm it.  Bruce’s eyes seemed to eat up the way that she was handling the glass, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Darcy felt heat dance across her skin, she was growing eager to feel his hands on her. Playing around and turning a man on was hot, but getting fucked into the mattress was _hotter_ and Bruce needed to get with the fucking program. She gripped the glass tighter in her palms, drawing his eye as she let her foot slowly move out until she could just… touch… his…

Bruce recoiled from her touch with such violent force that the chair he’d been sitting on ended up halfway across the room. Darcy jerked up into a sitting position, eyes wide as she frantically searched for the the source of the disruption. “ _Shit!_ What was… what did-”

He was breathing hard, clumsily trying to stuff his stiff cock back into his trousers as he regarded her with something that could only be described as betrayal. “You spoke to Tony, Darcy. You _said_ he told you.”

“Told me you wouldn’t turn into… you know,” she explained as she tried to pop her breasts back into her bra and draw her dress together.

Bruce stopped what he was doing, mouth falling open as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “He was supposed to tell you that I didn’t touch. I don’t touch. _We_ don’t touch. You _weren’t supposed_ to touch.”

 _Fuck_ , _yeah, okay_ , she _got_ it. Darcy jumped up from the bed and tried to rush past Bruce. He made a grab for her, but she dodged it easily. “I fucked up, I’m sorry,” she said, even as she was halfway out of the apartment. 

He tried to call her back, but she wasn’t having it. Embarrassment and anger ate at her and she hurtled herself out of the front door of the apartment barefoot and bare-assed. Her thighs were sticky with lube and arousal and she was so focused on crookedly re-buttoning her dress that she didn’t notice the broad-shoulders figure of Steve Rogers loitering outside of the door. He caught her around the shoulders, concern etched across his handsome face as he took in her disheveled state and looked past her toward the closed door. “Did I get you at a bad time?”

Bruce’s voice was growing closer, calling her name from within the apartment. “Everything okay, Ma’am?” he asked as Darcy shook his fingers loose.

“Fine,” she answered as she tried to smooth down her dress and kept moving toward the elevator, her mind unable to focus on his presence _and_ what had just happened, “You just caught me in the middle of… leaving.”

  


* * *

  


She made it an impressive two blocks from the Tower when an Aston Martin DB9 Coupe dropped its speed and began to stalk her. She didn’t need to stop and look, she just flipped off the darkly tinted car and continued her barefoot walk of shame.

There was a low mechanical whirring as the window was lowered, “C’mon, Lewis. Don’t be like that. Just get in the car before I get arrested for solicitation. Again.”

He continued at a snail’s pace, traffic backing up behind him. Horns began to beep and people were eyeing Darcy suspiciously until she caved and darted into the relative safety of the car. Tony punched the accelerator, throwing Darcy back into her seat as she did her best not to acknowledge his presence. Being ignored was clearly not something Tony was at all accustomed to.  


“Bruce was worried. Summoned the calvary,” he said blithely.  


“Well, the ‘calvary’ is a dick.”

“I take it your afternoon didn’t go well?”

“Ugh!” Darcy voiced her disgust as she smacked the dash, then turned in her seat and jammed a finger against Tony’s shoulder. “Did you - _at any point_ \- think it might be pertinent to tell me that the huge fucking _rage beast_ I was taking to my bedroom had a no-touching rule?”

He drummed his fingertip against the steering wheel. “Knew I was forgetting something.”

“You think this is funny?” she shrieked so loudly that the couple in a neighbo]ring car narrowed their eyes at the tinting to try and look inside. “I _humiliated_ myself and-”

Tony ignored her as he slid his eyes to the rearview mirror, checked a side mirror and then practically _drifted_ the car into a parallel park. He yanked on the handbrake, undid his belt and turned back to face Darcy, this time waving a finger of his own. “ _You_ were humiliated? And Bruce? The guy who came to you for a service? How’s he feeling right now? It’s a confusing time, kid, I get it. But you’re here for a reason. You’re not some dumb hooker, I know, I know how to pick ‘em. You have compassion, you have a brain. Bruce is my friend. He is hurting and he is terrified. Years without touching a woman, years without touching _himself_ and now finally he’s venturing out of his comfort zone. I just wanted to push him a little further, make him see that nothing would go wrong.”

Darcy swatted his wagging finger aside, “That’s _not_ your call! Something almost did go wrong.”

“Not even close, kid. If there were a chance that he’d hurt you, he would never have even been in that room. He’s so fixated on what might happen that he’s lost sight of what he’s missing. Just wanted you to show him.”

“By going against his wishes?”

“By opening him up to opportunity. Showing him that not everyone fears his monster.”

Darcy spat out another noise of disgust as she fumbled with the car door handle. “With a ‘ _friend_ ’ like you, who needs Loki?”

She stepped back out onto the grubby sidewalk and realized that Tony had delivered her to the front door of a Christian Louboutin boutique. He leaned across the console and slid his sunglasses from his nose. “Pepper’s going to be along shortly to pick up the tab and take you to lunch.” He waved his sunglasses toward the storefront. “Do your worst.”

She flipped him off and shuffled gingerly on her tender feet toward the store. After the situation Tony had landed her in, Darcy finally felt okay throwing a bit of his money around.

  


* * *

  


Darcy was _much_ calmer that evening as she oriented herself in Bruce’s empty lab and found a desk to perch herself on. The jeans and pale pink button-down shirt were casual, but paired with the newly acquired Stark-funded Louboutins that dangled from her casually crossed legs she hoped she fell somewhere between ‘Do me now’ and ‘Oh, I was just in the neighbourhood’. 

Pepper had talked her down from the ledge - so to speak - then she’d _bribed_ her from the ledge with shoes (though Darcy had guiltily drawn the line at two pairs, Pepper had explained that two _styles_ in multiple colors was basically the same thing). It helped that Pepper didn’t have a face that asked to be punched, it also helped that Pepper had taken Darcy for an emergency pedicure and restorative pancakes. 

Darcy was certainly feeling more put-together, but she needed to make things right with Bruce and if she knew her scientists - and she _did_ \- he wouldn’t be away from his lab for long. Three minutes later Bruce shuffled in, eyes squinting down at a sheaf of graph paper as he sipped at a cup of herbal tea.

She cleared her throat loudly. 

Tea slopped out of the mug and down the front of his shirt, Bruce cursed and tossed aside the graphs as he pinched his shirt and flapped it around, trying to cool his chest.  


“Shit!” Darcy jumped up from the desk and rushed to take the hot tea from his hand. “I swear I’m not usually such a disaster around people,” she apologized as she turned to straighten the discarded graph paper. 

“No, Darcy, leave it, it’s fine.”

“No,” she kept shuffling the paper, deep creases forming between her eyes. “I messed up,” she said quietly, though she wasn’t talking about the tea or the paper anymore.

Bruce reached out and stilled her hands with his. “You were misinformed, that’s not your fault.”

“But you didn’t want me to-”

Bruce shook his head and led her to the desk where he dropped into his chair and let her sit on the edge of the desk between his spread knees. “I was flattered. _Gutted_ that I couldn’t take what you were offering.”

“You’re touching me now,” Darcy noted as she wriggled her fingers against his, her voice a little less dismayed.

He squeezed her fingers tightly and looked down at them. “I am.”

“So the no touching is only sexual?”

“It’s… something.” He huffed out a breath and pinched his nose as he gathered his thoughts. “I keep trying to regain lost ground. I want the calm of a monk, not the sex life of one. It started with just me alone, then some porn. I just wanted to know how far I could go, what I could handle. I can… I can come alone. But you were the first woman in years. It’s not an easy step and the no touching just seemed to make perfect sense to me.”

Darcy freed one of her hands and swept it through his mop of graying hair; she kept going until her nails raked softly against the nape of his neck and he leaned in to the touch. “It doesn’t make sense,” she argued. “You know you can watch, you need to know if you can _touch_.”

His shoulders slumped as he turned his face up to hers with a grim little smile. “That’s not a risk I’m willing to ask someone to take.”

“Don’t have to ask me,” Darcy said as she slipped from the desk onto her knees. “I’m offering.”

Several beats passed as he looked down at where her hands hovered over his thighs, not yet touching him. His hands covered hers as he pressed them to close the gap. “What did you have in mind?”

“Baby steps.”

“Anything specific?”

Darcy arched an eyebrow as she unbuttoned her shirt and unclasped the front fastening of her ornate (but utterly useless) bra. She shuffled around on her knees, a little uncomfortable on the hard linoleum, but not willing to stop for _anything. “_ I always thought of this as a sort of novelty thing. A bonus for being with a girl with a huge rack. It’s close, it’s hot - I hope - and you can step back at any second. Correct?”

Bruce gave a faint nod as he reached for his belt with shaking hands.

“Don’t overwhelm me with your enthusiasm, dude,” Darcy pouted as she cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing across her nipples.

“Honey, I’m trying not to overwhelm _myself_.”

Darcy snorted as she rolled her hips, suddenly very aware of how the seam of her jeans pressed hard against her clit. She reached down to unfasten her fly and wriggled her hand into her slightly-too-tight jeans. 

True to his word, Bruce was already looking impressively excited as he eased his cock from his trousers. “Ladies first?” he asked with a nod to where she’d selfishly stuffed her hand into her pants.

Darcy shrugged and moved her fingers into her panties, eager for a quick and nasty climax while Bruce watched on. “We could multitask?” Darcy offered and Bruce didn’t hesitate to reach for her breasts, lifting and measuring them in his hands. “See,” Darcy said as he pressed her tits together, “Touching isn’t so bad.”  


“Mmmm,” Bruce was already wheeling his desk chair closer, knees widening as his hips slipped to the end of the seat and he sought to fit his cock between the tight valley he was forming with her breasts.

Her fingers sped up as she tapped into the thwarted lust from their disastrous afternoon in her apartment, she was _just_ wet and getting wetter with each sweep of her fingers. It was difficult to maneuver her hand within the confines of her jeans (and given the effort it had taken to get them _on_ they weren't coming off for a while). She looked down to watch the stilted drag of Bruce’s cock through her cleavage and the visual stimulation, coupled with her finger circling her clit at just the right moment, was enough to have her yelping through a brief, but powerful orgasm.

“I’m going to see that again,” Bruce noted as she caught her breath. “I’m going to _make_ _that happen._ ”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Darcy breathed as she returned her hands to the side of her breasts and helped Bruce hold them together as his fucking gained momentum. The wheels of the chair squeaked as he picked up speed, her breasts jolted and warmed with the friction of each stroke. She caught the tip of his cock on an upstroke with a sneaky dart of the tongue and he groaned, “Need… need to come soon.”

“So come,” Darcy said with a tiny shrug and a sly grin as she upped the pressure on her breasts.

The first neat little splat of come caught her under the chin as he groaned deeply. The pulses that followed trailed down her sternum and spread as Bruce thrust out the final moments of his own climax. It was messy, of course it was. She was pretty sure there was a little come in her hair and a slight speck on her glasses. Still she sat contentedly back on her heels and ran her index finger up through the slick mess, catching just a little and sucking if from her finger as she watched Bruce flop back into his chair. He groped clumsily around on his desk, dislodging several files before he produced a box of tissues and passed them down to Darcy.

“So did the world end?” she asked as she patted at her chest with a tissue. “Famine, fire, flood?”

“Well, the world _moved._ ”

“Wasn’t that disastrous though, was it?”

Bruce rolled his eyes as Darcy fastened her bra and he leaned in to help her do up her top. “Could we not tell Tony? I hate it when he’s right.”

“God,” Darcy nodded as she got to her feet, “Absolutely.”


	4. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you sure he’s up for this? Because, I have to be honest with you, he looks like he’d pass out from an overly enthusiastic high five.”

Lightning tore across the sky as Darcy paused to watch it. She’d been swimming laps in the tower for about fifteen minutes but had frequently found herself slowing to watch the storm outside. There wasn’t a place on earth more perfect to watch the lightning rip up the sky. The rec floor housed a half-sized Olympic swimming pool, two sides of it enclosed by nothing but walls of plate glass. The Art Deco sconce lights by the entrance burned at the lowest setting, only occasionally flickering on the water where she disturbed it, beyond that it almost felt that she was swimming among the lightning.

Darcy rolled onto her back and kept moving with a half-assed paddle. When the storm had started she wondered if it was a sign that Thor had finally woken, but she’d left him sleeping upstairs and recent experience showed that when he was in the mood to sleep, he wouldn’t stir for hours. Which was fantastic if he needed the rest, she got the feeling Thor slept on an infrequent basis and usually only after intense trials or his time with her. Some nights he was fantastic to sleep with, others she was acutely aware that he was several hundred pounds of premium, solid manflesh and ran roughly 20 degrees hotter than any human. It was, Darcy sighed softly to herself, one of those nights. 

She wasn’t quite sure what the time was, but it had to be near two in the morning. Her intention had been to slip from the master bedroom, leaving Thor to have the bed so that she could retire to her own room, but somewhere on the way she’d fully woken and decided instead just to grab her swimsuit and explore the private pool that Bruce had told her about. It wasn’t like she was wanting for physical activity. Her time with Thor was _vigorous_ and Bruce, for all his calm, was getting bolder and more insistent when it came to exploring the ways he felt comfortable touching her.  All good things, but she was starting to ache for a little personal time and the pool seemed perfect. No one was watching, the lights on the far wall were so dim that when the lightning flashed it eclipsed everything else and took Darcy’s breath away. The water soothed an ache high inside her thigh - just a lovebite from Thor - but the distinct mark of his teeth still throbbed a little. She came to rest, one arm anchoring her to a diving block as she looked out at the night. The light, the noise, the water. It was a sort of sensory deprivation by means of overload, which explained why she never saw or heard anyone enter until a body launched off of the block above her head and lightning struck, illuminating an impressive expanse of pale skin in the split second before it disappeared beneath the surface.

Darcy plastered her back against the tiles and dropped her body further beneath the water until it lapped at her chin. She waited for the new late-night swimmer to surface but could only watch as he managed to swim lap after lap without coming up for air. She watched him kick off from the wall for a fifth time before realizing that she was holding her own breath. Darcy kicked her feet gently to lift her chin and sucked in a noisy breath. He must have had stellar hearing because even submerged he heard her gasp and came up short, shooting up from the water and standing a dozen feet away. 

There was never a _wrong_ time to find Captain America shirtless and panting in your presence, but the fleeting look of astonishment on his face almost had Darcy stuttering through an apology before she realized that _she_ had been there first.

“You’re quite good at this,” Darcy noted as she waved a hand through the water. The soft light caught the planes of his chest as he reached up to rub the water from his eyes.

“I never used to be. Could hardly swim, back in the day.”

“You learned?” Darcy asked as she tried to keep herself below the waterline. Her athletic one-piece swim suit had seen better days, for something she’d picked up four years ago on sale at Target it was fine. But as a garment it was far more focused on function than form.

Water lapped at Steve’s hips as he shrugged and awkwardly rubbed one hand over his abdomen. “One of those things. After the serum, suddenly my body just knew how to do it.”

“I guess your body is good at all sorts of things now,” Darcy kicked away from the wall, moving closer to the shallow area where he stood. She paused mid-stroke and frowned at her own words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound so… pornographic.”

“It’s, uh, no. Yeah. It’s fine.” Steve coughed awkwardly into his fist as Darcy came to a stop several arm lengths from him and crouched low in the water.

Another branch of lightning lit-up the sky beyond and there was a pause as they both turned to watch it. This time the lightning brought with it a torrent of rain and they remained silent as it pelted against the glass, the noise growing to a crescendo over the space of a few minutes before fading to a light constant drone.

Eventually Steve spoke, “It’s nice to see Stark sink his money into something worthwhile.”

Darcy stood quickly, the water sloshing around her waist as she blinked at him. She had _no_ idea how to respond to that.

Steve blinked back at her, then horror dawned on his face. “No! Oh, no. I didn’t mean… not _you._ I meant the _pool_. Best damn part of the whole building.”

It took a second for her to mentally smooth down her hackles, but eventually she nodded and swept her hands gently through the water. “You come here often?” Almost immediately she wanted to drown herself. What kind of BS line was _that_? 

“After… after a rough night it helps.” 

In the the poor lighting it was easy to miss the flourish of deep black and purple that curled up the side of his ribcage. Darcy winced and briefly reached across the space that separated them, then let her hand fall into the water with a little splash. “You need a doctor.”

He looked down at himself and shook his head, “It’ll heal. It’s just that the muscles tighten a bit, so I need to loosen up. The swimming helps.”

Darcy let her eyes slip from the bruising, down over his narrow hips into the dark water where she could make out the outline of his Speedoes. Previously, she had considered herself very anti-Speedoes on a man, but Steve was packing a _lot_ into the minuscule garment and he was doing it well. She looked him over until it started to get weird, until she felt her own nipples perk up and wondered what _he_ was noticing about her. “Oh!” She snapped her fingers with recollection, “You came to see me the other night?!”

Sure enough, Steve’s head jerked a little, suggesting he’d been looking somewhere other than at her face. “I was… I wanted you. I mean - _damn._ ”

“Oh, okay. Did you still want to see me for-” _hot filthy sex_ “-something?”

“Not that.” His reply was so quick, so gruff that Darcy couldn’t help but feel a little offended. “Pepper said… I’m drawing again. It was something that I did, a long time ago and Pepper suggested that you might, uh, sit for me?”

“I could do that. I guess…” Darcy wasn't quite so sure though, because it was one thing to get _active_ with a man, but to sit still while he saw and captured all of her imperfections? Lightning and thunder cracked outside, interrupting her thoughts and bringing a frown to Steve’s face.

“Kinda makes you wonder what Thor’s up to,” Steve mused.

Without thought Darcy shook her head, “Nah, big guy’s asleep.”

“In your bed?”

Darcy’s silence gave him all the answer he needed. The water shifted softly as he took a few steps toward her. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t have let you leave,” he spoke so softly Darcy had to take a second to make sure that she’d heard him correctly.

“I _could_ be yours. If you asked nicely.”

“I’m not built to share my gal,” Steve confirmed, his mouth set into a grim line. 

The words rankled, Darcy didn’t give a shit what his hang-ups were. But the way he spoke made her feel like there was something wrong with the way she allowed herself to be shared. She lowered herself back into the water and kicked over to the wall. “I don’t think you have the first idea about how you’re _built_ ,” Darcy snapped as she launched herself out at the edge of the pool. From the water she heard Steve’s sharp intake of breath and turned her face to find his eyes glued to the lurid bite on the soft skin between her thighs. “And another thing,” Darcy continued because, fuck it, she was on a roll and had a little ire to spare, “You don’t share me. _I_ share me.”

Her huffy exit was punctuated only by the wet slapping of her feet on the tiles and the distant promise of continued thunder. She only hoped that in 20 minutes time, when she got back to Thor and the lightning _really_ picked up, Steve was smart enough to know why.

 

* * *

 

Darcy wasn’t nervous about figuring out who her next Avenger was going to be, she was just curious as all Hell. This one had requested her time with an unsigned text from a blocked number. Thor and Bruce were out of the line-up of potential suspects, she already knew their MO (or lack of, in Thor’s case).

Steve was out too, given his now-voiced disapproval of her lifestyle choices.

That left Tony, who she immediately discounted because that man had never done a thing in his life without branding his name across it, and maybe Barton.

Darcy didn’t fuck around when she dressed this time, she knew her market. The underwear was gaining far more significance than the outwear lately, so she picked a strappy black silk thong and paired it with a soft cup lace bra. Over that she pulled on a snug pair of black jeans and a red knitted sweater. She eyed herself in the mirror as she shoved the sleeves up to her elbows. The sweater wasn’t made to be worn with a soft-cup bra, paired with her own generous endowments and the utterly useless and unsupportive confection of lace (and quite possibly voodoo) the overall look fell just a little shy of pornographic. Darcy gave an experimental shimmy and, sure enough, her breasts bounced merrily.

Actually, maybe the combination _was_ suitable for what she had scheduled. She grabbed a pair of red buckled ankle boots, one of the horde that had started to infiltrate her collection (either Stark was still guilty over the Banner debacle, or grateful for the headway she was making with him), and stuffed on a wristful of gold tone bangles.

She wandered out into her lounge room, mentally calculating that she had a least fifteen minutes until-

Only there sat Natasha Romanoff, the stunning redhead from the headlines, primly perched on the sofa. Darcy eyed the door, but it was shut and she hadn’t heard it open.

Darcy hadn’t given much thought to the possibility of sleeping with another woman. It wasn’t something she’d done before, but when she turned the idea over in her mind - linking it with the mental image of a stunningly put-together redhead - she had found herself more than a little excited at the prospect. Still, it was a vastly different matter to actually be faced with the compact contract killer neatly attired in jeans and caramel leather boots and jacket.

“Not what you expected?” Natasha asked with a quirk of one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“I gave up expecting things when I got this gig,” Darcy answered truthfully. “Easier just to roll with the punches.”

“That’s handy in this world, you could be useful.”

“I _am_ useful,” Darcy replied as she came to a standstill in front of Natasha.

“I meant outside of the bedroom.”

Darcy shrugged at that, “I’ve got my hands full _in_ the bedroom.”

Natasha’s no-bullshit exterior cracked a little then, her lips twisted into a small knowing smile. “I bet you do.” She relaxed on the sofa and Darcy couldn’t help but admire the expensive cut and style of her hair, the flawless skin and the, frankly, _bangin’_ body that she had.

Natasha perused Darcy in return, her eyes catching an lingering over her breasts. “I can see why he likes you. Likes to wax lyrical about your curves.”

“You mean Thor?” Darcy asked, finally crumbling under the scrutiny and dropping onto the sofa beside Natasha.

“Not quite,” she answered vaguely as she tipped her head to the side. “I was just going to take you upstairs, but I’ve miscalculated my timings. We have a few minutes to burn.”

“I think I have Yahtzee on the bookshelf,” Darcy deadpanned.

“Cute,” Natasha’s wry twist of the lips left Darcy shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. “You play Yahtzee with Thor?”

“Sometimes we play Uno too.”

“What would you play with me?” Natasha asked, her voice growing low and husky.

From waaay left of field Darcy caught the unbidden idea that she’d very much like to press herself against the compact redhead and play a _very thorough_ game of Doctor. “Truth or Dare?” she ventured instead, deciding that the answer was safer but still vaguely flirty.

“Which one?”

“Huh?” Darcy screwed up her nose. Had she missed something?

“Truth. Or. Dare.” Natasha repeated.

Shit, Natasha was the sort of person who’d start a coup in a small third-world country on a dare. “Truth?” Darcy said nervously. Much safer. Probably.

But then Natasha’s grin suggested that Darcy had played directly into her hands. “Have you ever kissed a woman?”

Just because Darcy was out of her depth didn’t mean she was a coward, there was only one way to deal with such a blatant challenge. “Have now,” she shrugged as she grabbed the collar of Natasha’s jacket and pulled her in for a kiss. It wasn’t as advertised. She’d figured that kissing another woman would be soft, delicate. Polite, even. The kiss wasn’t any of those things. It was wet and needy and - _oh, teeth_ \- Natasha swung up and over to straddle Darcy as she filled her hands with her breasts. Darcy instinctively clamped down on her hips as she tried to bring her closer. After a few long moments they slowed to series of nips and licks, eager little touches that had Darcy squirming in her jeans.

“You’ll do,” Natasha grinned down at her as she pulled back and stood to hold out her hand. Darcy took it, letting herself be drawn from the sofa.

 

* * *

 

“Nat?! S’at you? I felt the door. Naaaat. Aw, c’mon, Nat.” Darcy could hear the yelling from the bedroom as they moved into Natasha’s apartment.

“He’s not normally this painful,” she explained as she shrugged out of her leather jacket. “He took a involuntary dive from the fifth floor onto a dump truck on Monday. Tore his calf. Inactivity isn’t a good color on Clint.”

Darcy blinked in horror at Natasha as she remembered Steve’s own bruises from the night she’d encountered him at the pool. “He _fell_ five stories?”

“Fell, _dropped_. With Clint it’s never straightforward. Always looks worse than it is, though. He’ll be up and about soon. But not too soon. He has another two days on bed rest.”

“And I’m here because…?” Darcy let the sentence hang.

“We’re going to give him a good Goddamn reason to stay in bed,” Natasha said as she turned to lead Darcy down the hall. “Two things: go easy on him and talk where he can see you.”

For Darcy Clint Barton has always been the most elusive Avenger. The others courted the media  in their own ways, but Barton had a knack for remaining above the fray and in constant motion. Almost all public images of him were blurred and out of focus and Darcy’s mental picture of Barton didn’t extend much beyond dirty blonde hair and _biceps_.

Which was why it was so surprising that she actually did recognize the bedraggled man propped up against a nest of pillows.

“You!” Darcy gasped as she moved into the bedroom. “ _You_ took my fucking iPod!” she accused.

“Told you she’d recognize me,” he said to Natasha with a crooked grin.

Typically, she’d have nothing but sympathy for a guy as clearly banged up as Clint. His jaw was bruised, a small plaster covered a cut on the bridge of his nose. His bare chest boasted a smattering of deep purpled bruises and his foot was propped up on a pillow, the leg of his grey track pants rolled back to the knee to reveal his compression bandage. And the thing in New Mexico _had_ been years ago. Darcy fought the urge to step forward and fluff up his pillows. She was a sucker for a wounded stray and Barton had ‘take me home and feed me’ practically tattooed on his forehead.

“Are you here for my sponge bath?” he asked with a wonky leer.

Darcy rolled her eyes and turned to Natasha, “Are you sure he’s up for this? Because, I have to be honest with you, he looks like he’d pass out from an overly enthusiastic high five.”

“Not me,” he promised as he struggled to sit up a little higher.

“Pathetic,” Natasha sighed without venom as she toed off her boots and crossed the room to straighten one of the pillows behind Clint. He saw an opening and took it, throwing her off balance with a swift arm about the waist and hauling her down onto his lap. Darcy watched on awkwardly as he dropped his nose into the crook of her neck and inhaled softly, his hand opening and shifting down to run over one of Natasha’s thighs.

Sure, she’d been around for several weeks now, but she wasn’t exactly pro-level at being… a pro. Was she supposed to throw herself at the couple? Strip? Go make chicken soup? Fuck. She needed a manual.

“C’mon, Lewis,” Clint cooed, “We don’t bite. Well, _I_ don’t. Nat mig- _opfhh…_ ” Natasha jammed a playful elbow into his ribs and got up from the bed.

“You lose touching privileges for the next five minutes. If you tease our guest, she might not come back.”

“Lucky I like watching,” he drawled as he tracked Natasha’s movements back to Darcy.

Darcy’s field of focus narrowed to the slim redhead sizing her up. She wondered how many people had stood where she was, caught in the sights of the Widow, and lived to tell the tale. But how could she be afraid? Natasha moved with an easy grace, a soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she smelled of bitter orange and warm cinnamon. Without conscious thought Darcy’s fingers shot out and tucked into the waist of Natasha’s jeans. She gave a gentle tug to bring her closer, then started to panic. Her teeth worried at her lower lip and she considered that maybe this wasn’t what Natasha had planned for them.

“Don’t lose your nerve now, _kotyonok_.”

… then again. She unbuttoned Natasha’s jeans with trembling fingers, tugged at the small zipper and caught a peek of black lace. Darcy grew a little bolder as she ran her hands up from there, pushing up Natasha’s t-shirt as she went, lifting it up over her head. The shirt went flying and Darcy took a second to send her own sweater after it, leaving both women chest to chest, their breath meeting in the small gap between their mouths.

“Time for a second kiss?” Natasha asked.

“Can I phone a friend?”

“By all means.”

Darcy turned her head slightly to catch Clint with his fingertips tucked into his track pants. “Barton?”

“Don’t tease an invalid, Lewis. S’not nice,” he bitched.

“Taking my iPod wasn’t nice either.”

“Still? It’s been, what? Three years?”

Natasha gave an impatient sigh as she snatched Darcy’s chin between her fingers, turned her face back and leaned in to stop all argument with her mouth. It was convenient, because Darcy had barely touched the sides with that first kiss. That first press of lips had left her worked up with some very serious need and as she rubbed her top lip over Natasha’s lower lip she greedily took in the taste of the other woman. Darcy went for a polite, sweet dart of the tongue, only to be met with Natasha’s own far bolder tongue. The kiss withstood a little turbulence as both women shimmied and wriggled out of their jeans. Skinny jeans were the _worst_ for stripping. But then Clint groaned and Darcy guessed that all that bouncing and jumping had to be working for him.

The was a near-spill when Darcy pulled away from the kiss to yank off her boots and socks so that she could kick her jeans free, then she was back thigh-to-thigh with Nat, their pale skin warming where they touched as she dropped her mouth to her shoulder and pressed an open mouthed kiss there. She had the taste of Thor and Bruce in the back of her mind now, knew them well, but the soft pale skin was another take on oral exploration and it only seemed right to let her moth slip down over her chest, to linger at the swell of one breast then down over the lace of her bra, over her ribs, a scar, the soft curve of her stomach (not nearly as generous as Darcy’s own). Darcy came to rest on her knees in front of Natasha, her eyes trying to make sense of the skin she could see through the thin black lace of her underwear. She skimmed her palms up over Natasha’s thighs and hooked her fingertips into the fabric, pulling them down in one move and helping her step clear of them. She sat back on her heels then, surveying the neat strip of hair above Natasha’s oh-so-pretty pussy.

Natasha’s fingers came down to toy with Darcy’s hair, “Truth or dare?” she asked softly.

“No need to dare me,” Darcy answered honestly as she tapped on Natasha’s knee and helped her to bring it up to rest on the edge of the bed. “This is something I think I’ll enjoy.”

She started with just a single finger, pressing it to the top of Natasha’s slit and spreading the delicate lips, ghosting from clit back to the heated entrance where she seemed wettest. Darcy dragged her fingertip back up, spreading the slick of arousal and circling Natasha’s pink clit until it too was slick and shining. Then Darcy leaned in, led by her tongue, to learn the taste of Natasha. It wasn’t the sweet mana that was romanticised in books. She tasted of salt, of orange body lotion and of some undefinable other thing that she would forever call ‘woman’. It was a genuine taste, real and lovely. Darcy gripped Nat’s thigh and pulled it out wider as she leaned in further and used her mouth against her cunt as though she meant to kiss her with all of her now considerable skill.

It wasn’t a difficult task, Darcy was nothing short of amazed at her chance to learn another woman from this angle. She’d seen the porn - fuck, she had the same gear in her panties - but there was something so tactile, so intense about taking the time to run her tongue and lips over another woman. It became the best sort of game, learning that broad sweeps of the tongue got her wetter. That tugging her clit between soft spit-slick lips made her _fucking tremble_. Oh, it was so very _very_ good.

Darcy was startled when she felt fingers brush past her chin. She was pulled from her lusty haze as she realized the long, calloused fingers belonged to Clint, who had scooted to the edge of the bed, deemed that his five minutes in the penalty box were done and that Darcy was going to need a hand in getting Natasha off.

“Gonna give it up for our new girl?” Clint murmured as he worked two talented fingers up into Nat. 

“Shh,” she moaned as she scraped her fingers through Darcy’s hair, gently coaxing her mouth closer. 

Darcy darted her tongue out to catch Clint’s knuckle and their eyes caught. He gave her a wink, then worked his fingers faster. Darcy took the cue and wrapped her tongue around Natasha’s clit, suckling and tugging with her mouth.

Natasha wasn’t a screamer, but a gasper. Her spine bowed and her legs shook, but Clint was there  automatically with his spare hand at the small of her back to catch and support her as she panted through the long moments of her climax. 

If Darcy needed any proof of Natasha’s bad-assness, she had it. What kind of inhuman woman could still stand after coming like that? Her respect for Natasha jumped up a few notches.

“So…” Clint thumped the mattress next to him, “Clint’s turn?”

“I don’t know man,” Darcy rubbed her knees as she got up to her feet, “I still don’t know if you can take it…”

“Don’t bait him,” Nat cautioned as she slipped Darcy’s glasses from her face and set them aside, “He once spent three months undercover in a Latverian prison camp because I said he couldn’t take it. Questioning his stamina makes him all sorts of stupid.”

“To clarify,” Clint added as he tucked a fingertip up beneath the underwire of Darcy’s bra and coaxed her closer, “That _was_ a mission. Not just my machismo.”

“Point being,” Natasha continued as she stepped up behind Darcy and slipped her underwear down her thighs, “Don’t ask what he can take. Tell him what he’ll _get._ ”

“Well, he’s about to get laid,” Darcy stated plainly as she reached behind her back and undid her bra. 

Clint dragged the lace from her body and grinned goofily. “Aww, yes. Knew these’d be amazing. _Knew it_.”

Darcy swatted his hands away before he could make a grab. “On your back, against the pillows. You don’t move.”

“Kinky.”

Darcy didn’t have the heart to tell him that the order was more in deference to his banged up state, but if that was how he wanted to play it… she watched on as he gingerly shuffled back up the bed, one arm wrapped around his ribs as he dragged one leg along and relied on the other for movement. God, she hoped the sex wasn’t going to kill him. She didn’t think she could salvage her reputation if she killed an Avenger with her vagina. Shit. What would her _mother_ say?

She followed him up on her hands and knees, not _at all_ minding the way that Natasha’s hands played over her behind as she went. There was a moment of pause as she got to the top half of the bed and looked around. He was already stuffing his track pants down, leaving them to sit scrunched up about his knees. This was the point in proceedings where Darcy would usually say ‘giddy up’ and climb on, but the bruising along his ribs looked horrendous and she wasn’t entirely sure her weight wouldn’t collapse his lung. Instead, she stretched out beside him, her breasts brushing his side as she reached for his cock. It was neat, as cocks went, clean-cut, arrow-straight, hard and bobbing eagerly for attention. She wrapped her hand around him and gave an experimental squeeze. “Okay?” she let her lips brush his shoulder as she began to slide her fist up and down his cock.

Natasha appeared at his other side, her chin perched lightly on his chest as she looked down over the ridges of his abdomen to where Darcy’s hand worked. “I want you to think about this next time you decide to take the shortcut to the basement. A pretty girl like Darcy can’t help you if you’re in traction.”

“Didn’t… _uh-”_ He faltered as Nat’s hand slipped down to cup his balls, “Didn’t exactly plan on getting thrown out a window.”

“Would you believe,” Natasha fixed Darcy with a put-upon expression, “This isn’t the first time he’s said that?”

Darcy winced. “Dude, gotta take better care of yourself.”

Clint arched his hips beneath her grip, “You are taking all the care I need, sweetheart. _Shit._ Gonna need to be inside you soon.”

Darcy frowned a little, Natasha just nodded. She released Clint and took a few seconds to brace his injured leg with pillows, fussing and planning until he actually _growled_ at her. “Keep it up, princess, and I will bend you over this bed and give you the _most athletic_ fucking of your life.”

Tempting as that was, Darcy took the hint and settled herself down onto Clint, straddling him gently as she lowered herself gradually. “Okay?” she asked again.

“Honestly?” His eyes were fixed on where his stiff cock nestled against her bare pussy, “My ass could be on fire and I wouldn’t feel a thing. Nat? Down for the assist?” He moved his good leg out so that there was room for Natasha to settle down onto her knees at Darcy’s back. Her hands slipped up Darcy’s ribs to cup her breasts and Darcy mewled happily. What a team those two made.

She _fucking loved_ her job.

Beneath her, Clint grew restless again. He bucked his hips impatiently and Darcy came up onto her knees and rocked her hips, letting her slick pussy drag along the textured underside of his cock.

“Get me nice and wet, Lewis. Like that,” Clint’s fingertip dug into her hips as he tried to hurry her pace. She was having none of it, she slowed her hips and enjoyed herself at his expense. She took her sweet-ass time, only taking him back in hand once she was good and ready - once they _both_ were. Darcy shifted and moved until she could angle the head of Clint’s cock until it _just_ caught. 

“How’re those ribs doing?” she asked breathlessly.

“ _Please…_ ” She knew she had him then. No levity, no dirty talk… just out and out begging. It was an easy plea to succumb to. Darcy took Clint gradually, savoring the way he slid deep into her. Behind her, Natasha pressed close, one hand slipping down to strum over Darcy’s clit as she began to ride Clint at a sedate pace.

Sweat broke out across Clint’s brow and chest and she couldn’t tell if he they were overexerting him, or he was growing frustrated with the pace. “Faster?”

“Yes, _ohgodyes.”_

There wasn’t much else to be said as she started to ride him like she’d stolen him. Natasha’s fingers slipped and rubbed with a practiced ease as Darcy and Clint fucked their way to their respective loud, wet orgasms.

Later, much later, as Darcy fussed anew over Clint’s injuries and fluffed pillows. Natasha found a place against his other side and smiled smugly as she traced his bruises with her fingertips. “Beats a Get Well card,” she mused with a nod toward Darcy.

Still vaguely high from her own orgasm, Darcy wasn’t in any state to take exception over the comment so she simply flopped back down beside Clint and let him hook an arm around her shoulders. “Next time can I have Naughty Nurse outfits?”

Nat choked out a noise of disgust as Darcy fielded the question. “I don’t know, man. White probably isn’t your color…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your awesome comments so far! They totally make my day!
> 
> Thanks again to just-mindy for the read-through and for listening to my late-night rambling! You are an absolute gem!


	5. Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did one wear to seduce Tony Stark? Perspex heels and a schoolgirl uniform? If the press were correct, the process of seducing Stark wasn’t so much a fine art as a sure thing, but it was still technically her job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been a while coming, but it's here now and... this chapter takes the path less travelled. 
> 
> Darcy's path. 
> 
> And by 'path' I mean 'butt'. Anal sex. It's anal sex, okay? So if that's not your thing, cool. It usually isn't my thing either, but I tried really hard to have it play out in a way that would be enjoyable and realistic... not just, y'know, gross male-fantasy porn stuff. Cause I'm all about the female fantasies.
> 
> The hugest of thanks to my beta just-mindy, who doesn't judge me for being neither perfect nor American. Mistakes remain alllll mine.

It was morning. Bright and earlier than Darcy would have liked. If her apartment was the sort to collect dust (it wasn’t) sunlight would have caught on the motes of dust as they drifted past the window. She ran through a slow mental inventory of her body, situation, life and day’s chores as she fought to pull together all the elements and fully awaken.

She was warm, hot even and the sheets rustled against her bare skin more than usual. Her eyebrow kicked up as she lifted the pale linen and stared down between her breasts and past her stomach as she watched Thor ferret around as though he were a 6’6”… well, ferret. Her legs fell wide as he managed to wedge his impressive shoulders between her knees. Darcy’s hips protested at the stretch and she made a series of pathetic whines as she adjusted herself, finally settling on draping her legs over his shoulders so that her heels tucked neatly beneath his shoulder blades.

“Hey Big Fella,” she croaked as he graced her with a broad, golden smile. Thor seemed so damn _pleased_ with himself and, were he not about to go down on her, she’d have hated him for being so chipper first thing in the morning. His breath against her thigh was so hot, his cheek rough as he took a few seconds to rub it against her in an almost feline manner.

“I had not meant to stir you,” his voice rumbled over her skin. Utter disbelief swam across Darcy’s face and his sweet smile was back. “Come, little love, shall I make amends?”

Darcy snorted, even as she wiggled her hips in encouragement. At some point in the night she’d managed to escape from beneath Thor’s limpet-like embrace and tugged on a pair of plain pink panties. “You’d hide your sweet little quim from me?” he murmured as he passed the tip of his nose up and down over her underwear.

With a sigh, Darcy mentally added ‘quim’ to the list of words Thor was no longer allowed to use. She’d established a sort of swear jar for him, in which he was required to place loose change (though he favored loose gemstones) when he used words like ‘concubine’, ‘wench’ or - and Darcy found this particularly cringe-worthy - ‘seed’. She was always down for a little dirty talk and Thor knew how to class it up (because, frankly, she’d always had a _thing_ for Patrick Stewart), but she drew the line at soliloquies cut directly from an old-school bodice ripper.

There was something comforting in learning the different quirks of each of her… well, lovers. The force of Thor, the tentative discovery with Bruce and the long playful afternoons spent dirtying up expensive sheets with Natasha and Clint. Still, her numbers were a little down. Tony, she didn’t fret about… the man clearly wasn’t going without. But Steve… oh, she wasn’t stressing about poor Steve not getting off. She couldn’t quite work out why (abs? ‘Aw, shucks, Ma’am’ demeanor? Choirboy gone bad fantasy?) but it really got under her skin that he’d left such a wide berth around her. Who was he to judge her? And what moral ground did she even have to be offended if he _was_ judging her. She was being _paid -_ through the nose - for sex. Lots of sex. Good sex. Dirty sex. 

Meaningful sex.

Not that she was in love… Darcy mused as she reached down and idly raked her fingers through Thor’s hair. It was simply that it _meant_ something. Each time, each act. It was an act of care, an act of succor like dressing a wound or cooking a meal. Certainly she was romanticizing what she was doing, but was she so far off the mark?

 _And is that what’s motivating you, Darce?_ A scathing voice asked in her head. _You want to get all_ meaningful _with Captain America?_

“You are distracted,” Thor’s fingers gently squeezed her thigh as he stilled.

“Well, man, I mean… I’m still balls deep in my REM sleep if that’s what you-”

“His inattention wounds you.”  
****

Darcy let her eyes roll toward the ceiling and let out a frustrated little huff. She’d tried lying to Thor before. She wasn’t certain if it was Asgardian mojo, or a talent uniquely his own, but the guy had a way of reading her. “Yes,” her voice was small and wounded as it bounced around the open and airy room.

She wasn’t sure she was equipped to have that particular conversation with Thor - not least because her words were being directed to the general vicinity of her vagina. How could she explain to him something she didn’t fully understand herself?

“I cannot fathom the depths of his mind, Darcy. Suffice to say, I feel his indifference masks an ardor that he is no more able to extinguish than you would be able to weather. Rogers’ passions run deep, but they are well fortified. I pray those dams do not break, little one, for I fear you would be lost to me in the torrent of his lust.”

Darcy plucked the sheets a little higher and looked down at him, his face near-inscrutable as his hot breath continued to damped her panties. She understood his words well enough, but she continued to struggle with the sentiment behind them. She and Thor were Bros. Bros who liked to share bodily fluids but when he spoke like that, spoke of losing her, they bridged the gap between their friendship and that indefinable ‘more’ that had grown and strengthened since the night he’d shown up at her door and set her lady-bits tingling. “You just want me all to yourself,” she said with a light smile.

“Would you be less troubled were I to install you as my mistress in Asgard?” he asked, his cheek resting against her thigh as he considered her. “Social mores there are… not as they are here. You would be well respected and, love, knowing the woman you are, I know also that you would be welcomed and well loved.”

God, now _there_ was a seductive offer: life as Thor’s mistress in a God-realm. But what of Netflix? Emails to Jane? What of the little life she’d eked out for herself at the Tower? “Is Loki still on the throne?” Darcy asked, pretending - just for a moment - to consider the offer.

“He is.” Thor’s shoulders slumped a little at just the mention of his brother.

“And does he know that _you_ know what he’s playing at?”

“I do not believe so.”

“And you won’t depose him?”

Thor considered his words carefully before speaking, “Loki loves Asgard well enough, no harm will befall it while it is in his keeping. His petty machinations and foibles do no harm at this time. It suits me well to keep him in sight.”

“Careful,” Darcy joked softly as she slipped her fingers into the crotch of her panties and slid the fabric aside, “You’ll outdo your father in the scheming stakes if you keep this up.”

“So you’ll not let me bring you to Asgard?” Thor asked, his lips glancing over the soft skin of her pussy.

“No,” Darcy answered as she rolled her hips and speared one hand through the back of Thor’s hair, guiding his mouth to exactly where she wanted it, “But you’re welcome to try and change my mind.”

 

* * *

 

“This has to be the single oddest conversation I’ve ever had,” Darcy announced to the empty room as she propped her elbows on the tempered glass of her small dining table and looked down at her laptop.

Pepper Potts sat against a backdrop of cream leather - a luxury car in motion - as she addressed Darcy in the video call. Pepper was, as always, immaculately turned out in a slate colored cashmere suit paired with a pristine white silk blouse. Still, for her perfect dress and ramrod posture, she still seemed a little ill-at-ease as she nervously glanced away from the camera at passing traffic. “Hang around the Tower for a while longer, Darcy, I promise you’ll have weirder conversations.”

“You can’t be okay with this?” Darcy asked, leaning in toward her own camera. “Is he making you do this?”

Pepper puffed out her cheeks as she considered her words carefully, the action made her a little more human and a lot less ‘corporate killer’. “Did you have a dog as a child, Darcy?”

“A Dalmatian. Very creatively named ‘Spot’.”

“I did too, Great Dane mixed with god knows what. Dumbest, most loyal and loving dog alive. Used to run into glass doors a lot,” Pepper smiled off to the side for a moment, forgetting her audience briefly. “Anyway, my Dad trained him so that you could rest a treat or a cookie on his nose and he’d let it balance here - indefinitely - until he got permission to eat it. He must have wanted those cookies desperately, but he always waited. He was a good dog.”

Lilac nails drummed on top of the dining table as Darcy considered it. “And I’m the cookie in this scenario?”

“In the most flattering way possible.”

“And you’re really okay with this?”

“Tony’s slept with a lot of women over the years, you’re the first one I’ve actually _liked._ ”

“Ah,” Darcy waved a finger at the screen, “But will you _still_ like me after I’ve banged your significant other?”

Pepper’s smile was small, but it came easily and it was genuine. “I really will. Besides, it’s his birthday.”

“Can you really verify that, though?” Darcy asked with narrowed eyes, “Are you sure he didn’t slither fully formed from a swamp somewhere?”

“I have visual confirmation of a birth certificate,” Pepper answered, only the tiniest twitch of her lips belying that she found Darcy amusing.

Darcy couldn’t believe that she was considering it, but then his name _was_ there on her contract and… really, she found no compelling reason to _not_ entertain Tony. If anything, when she thought of Stark she thought of a man who drove his friends insane with his tireless need to meddle, to shape and provide for their happiness. She thought of a man who had survived Hell and still carried overwhelming light wherever he went. She thought of a man who had sinned, often and publicly, and carried the burden of that each and every day… “So any tips for new players?”

“Don’t listen when he asks you to call him ‘Daddy’. It’s weird.” Pepper pulled a face, suggesting that it was an ongoing battle for them.

“Anything else?” Discomfort flickered in Pepper’s eyes, Darcy almost missed it as the streetlights outside of the car picked up and moved rapidly across her face. But it was there, something she was reluctant to say. “It’s dark there, where are you?”

“Sydney,” Pepper yawned delicately, “I’m heading back to my hotel. I’ve got another day before the G-20 Summit winds up here.”

“What else do you need, Pepper? You’ve already asked me to sleep with Tony, I doubt it gets much more intimate than that.”

Her lips thinned briefly before she nodded, coming to some silent resolution, and spoke, “Well, it’s not strictly necessary and entirely dependent on your comfort. But if you felt obliging could you perhaps have Tony open a video call while you and he…”

Oh. _Oh._ Darcy blinked a little at the screen and nodded a little crookedly. “That-that’s something that Tony’s into, then?”

Pepper’s smile was a lot more confident as she arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow, “No, Darcy. It’s something that _I’m_ into.”

 

* * *

 

Darcy sat on a table in Tony’s lab, flicking a small glass orb from hand to hand as she waited. She was trying desperately for an air of unaffected nonchalance, which she promptly lost when she dropped the damn thing as a sliding door hissed to admit Tony.

“That was worth 40K, Lewis,” he said casually as he nodded toward the shattered orb.

“Shit!” Darcy cried as she threw herself from the desk to salvage the small wreck.

“I’m shitting you,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he strolled up to her and watched with vague amusement as she struggled to get to her feet in a high pair of Louboutins. “It’s a paperweight.”

When she made it back to her feet, with all the grace of a newborn foal, she launched herself back up onto the table, nervously smoothing down her pale pink floral dress as she did so. Tony dropped into a desk chair and twirled his fingers, prompting a holographic interface to materialize next to her on the desk. For a few moments Darcy forgot herself, forgot her nerves, as she curiously stabbed her finger at the interface. “This lab is so _freakin’_ neat. I cannot believe Jarvis even let me in here!”

“Well,” Tony said as he pulled a pair of reading glasses from a nearby drawer, “We’d expected you a little sooner.”

“Y-you expected me? Pepper-”

“Sent me a text saying ‘you’re welcome’,” Tony said, his attention still on the interface as he swatted her fingers away, “And since I only want two things for my birthday…”

Darcy flushed a little - ridiculous, why did Tony make her feel like an absolute amateur? - “What was the other thing?”

“A Septjet.”

“Is that a thing?”

“ _Not yet,_ ” Tony muttered sullenly as he flicked aside a page on the screen.

“I couldn’t decide what to wear,” Darcy admitted. What _did_ one wear to seduce Tony Stark? Perspex heels and a schoolgirl uniform? If the press were correct, the process of seducing Stark wasn’t so much a fine art as a sure thing, but it was still _technically_ her job.

Darcy had shuffled through her ever-growing collection of lingerie, flinging aside mulberry silk and French lace before settling on a novelty pair of panties. The pale pink fabric had a heart-shaped cut out over the behind and a small fuchsia bow perched just above it, she’d paired it with a short, but neat, floral chiffon dress and a wildly expensive pair of pastel pink Louboutins. 

Tony stopped what he was doing as his fingers reached out to toy with the soft hem of her dress. “And you look good, kid. All dressed up for my birthday party. Did you bring me a present?”

“I’m sorry, are you not getting a load of this?” Darcy waved a hand on front of herself, “I _am_ the present.”

Tony’s answering smile was surprisingly warm and reminiscent of Bruce. Darcy felt some of her nerves settle as he rubbed his thumb across one of her kneecaps. “Look at you, Darcy. All pretty in pastel, so sweet. Like a birthday cake. Do I get to eat you?”

So not _exactly_ like Bruce, then.

“Pepper?” Darcy asked softly as her knees drifted apart. 

Tony pointed to the corner of the screen, where a small inset showed Pepper sitting somewhere wrapped in a silk robe and casually balancing a glass of red wine on her knee. Tony waved at the screen, Pepper waved back.

A spark ran up Darcy’s spine as she spread her knees just a little wider and dragged her skirt up her thighs as she went. Pale pink fabric outlined her pussy and Tony tossed his glasses aside as he reached out with his index finger to trace the line of her through her panties. It was the barest of touches, but enough to make her try and spread her thighs wider, enough to make her thankful when Tony’s calloused fingertip added pressure and managed to seek out the tiny rise of her clit, finding and toying with it while he watched her face with a crooked grin.

Darcy had been willing to ‘grin and bear it’, so it was something of a surprise to figure out just how _very_ okay she was with the whole situation. “How old are you?” she asked, pretending as though her whole world hadn’t been reduced to the infuriating way he was tracing her flesh through her panties - enough pressure to get her interested, but not nearly enough for her liking.

“You want my ID? I promise I’m 21.”

“Just wondering if I should offer a Senior’s Discount.”

His eyes sparked with the promise of retribution and Darcy wondered, perhaps a little too late, if Tony was maybe into some kinky stuff… _was she_? 

“I could teach you a thing or two, Darcy.” He slipped his thumb beneath the fabric of her underwear, finding her pussy slick and honeyed with lust. “What do you think it was that had all those women flocking to my bed?”

“The money?” She was all talk, considering that his hand was up her skirt.

“I’ll spank you for that,” he informed her casually as he rubbed his thumb over her one last time then dragged his hand away. Darcy tried her best not to pout. “Come get on Uncle Tony’s lap,” he pushed his chair back from the desk and patted his denim covered knee.

“Okay, yeah,” Darcy stated as the stood up on weak legs and followed him in the chair, “I’m not calling you that. _You_ aren’t allowed to call yourself that. Ever.”

Tony snorted, but remained quiet as he snagged her wrist and tugged her forward, gently guiding her until she had no choice but to dip at the knees and let him drape her over his lap. Beneath them the chair creaked and Darcy gave a start, but Tony’s hand was there smoothing up the back of one thigh as he spoke, “S’ok, Lewis. I gotcha.”

Air shifted around her thighs as he flicked her skirt up and she squirmed as her breasts smooshed up against the arm of the chair. “Happy Birthday to me, huh?” he said as his fingers briefly tugged at the ornamental bow on the back of her panties, inching them down over the swell of her bottom.

Christ, was she too heavy? This couldn’t be comfortable for him and she hardly saw any benefit in her being -

“Shit! You spanked me!” Darcy’s head snapped up as she cried out in outrage.

“Well spotted. That was the plan.” His hand smoothed over the skin of her butt; he hadn’t spanked her hard but the shock of the unexpected contact had taken her breath away. “Though now I have you at my mercy…” his hand slipped down, fingers pushing her panties further down her thighs as they wiggled and searched. Darcy couldn’t see his face, but she got the distinct feeling that he was leering down at her in a Vaudevillian fashion.

She’d like to have blamed the contract, the money… even her awe at being shacked up with honest-to-God superheroes… the implied lack of agency gave her the freedom to be down with what was happening. But then that wasn’t wholly true, was it? What was _so wrong_ about just enjoying where she was, what was happening? The guilt hadn’t come with the job, she’d packed that in her own bags when she’d arrived at the tower, but was it so wrong to maybe give the guilt a day or two off? Didn’t matter how Steve felt, not there and then, it mattered how she felt and she felt _good._

Darcy relaxed and tried to spread her legs a little, not an easy task with her panties rolled down to her upper thighs and restricting her movements, but it was enough space for Tony to part the lips of her pussy and find her a little too wet for someone supposedly just ‘doing a favor’. It had to be said, the guy had a good touch and even if Darcy wasn’t willing to say so, she was just fine with dropping her lower back and lifting her ass in invitation. He took his time though, spreading her arousal down to her clit and circling, stroking, teasing. When he finally, firmly, slipped his finger into her, Darcy was about ready to bite the armrest off the chair. “More,” she croaked as she rocked back against his hand.

Tony added another finger and twisted them, his thumb reaching up to - Christ, that was her _ass_. His thumb was pressing dry and tight against her ass and the chair creaked a little as she stiffened. “Little tight there, Lewis,” Tony observed suspiciously. “Not feelin’ it?”

“Uh, no. I mean yeah. S’cool.” Because in _theory_ it was cool, she didn’t object. She just really didn’t… hadn’t…

“You sure about that?” Tony asked as he slowly pulled his fingers from her and used them to spread her own arousal over her ass. “Because you’re tighter than Barton when it’s his turn to buy a round at the bar.”

And then there was a rustle as his hand moved, her underwear was put back into place and her skirt smoothed back down. Tony’s arm hooked around her shoulder, coaxing her up as he stood with her, then maneuvered her back against the desk until she had no choice but to make a little jump and return to sitting on the edge. There was an awkward moment as one of her heels thunked to the floor and she was left sitting there, legs swinging over the edge of the table and Tony regarding her like she’d been busted skipping school. He pulled up the chair and dropped into it, two fingers tapping against her knee.

“Your contact,” Tony noted, eyes slipping to the side, “Clearly lists anal sex as a ‘can do’ for you. So I’m confused.”

“It is.” And it really _was_ something Darcy was okay with. It was also, however, something that she hadn’t previously done. Darcy looked at Tony, really looked at him, it was easy to forget that he was handsome, he was a mortal guy in the company of sexual juggernauts but _goddamn_ he had a lot going on. The lines around his mouth hinted at a lifetime of laughing and smiling, but she always wondered how much of that had been sincere.

“If this isn’t what you want…”

“I said in the contract that I would, so I will.”

“The contract is a bit of paper, Lewis. This is, _literally_ , your ass on the line,” Tony raked his hand lightly over his chest, a small frown tugging the edges of his mouth down.

“I want to… I’d like…I’d like to try it if you’re willing to… go slow?”

“I’d be the first?”

Darcy snorted.

“God, I don’t pay you enough.” He rubbed his hands down over his thighs and stood. “Right, over the desk, if you’d be so kind.”

“What?” Darcy blinked at him, “Here? You’re going to - uh - _here?_ ”

“Oh, young Padawan,” Tony gallantly took her hand and helped her to her feet, giving her a moment to half hobble around on her one heel as she turned toward the desk before he gently ran his hand down her spine as she leaned forward over the desk. “I have much to teach you this day. This is only the introduction.”

Again he flicked her skirt up, but this time he slipped her panties all the way down to her ankles. “You know how good you look right now?” Tony murmured as his hands traveled up the back of her thighs to cup her ass. “You know how badly I just want to _fuck_ you? You’ll turn me into a good man, Lewis. A patient one.”

Somehow, she doubted that. There was a pause and she looked over her shoulder; Tony was pulling something tiny from a drawer and -

“ _Why_ would you have that in a drawer?” Darcy didn’t even bother to keep the censure from her voice as Tony held aloft a petite hot pink silicone anal plug. Really it was only a little wider than a thumb, tapered and only a couple of inches long.

“I was expecting you. I was just imagining this to have happened a little faster. But here I am, relishing the role of despoiler of virgins-”

“ _Not a virgin_.”

“Despoiler of _anal_ virgins. Trust me?”

Funnily enough, she did. She watched, her interest growing, as he set down a bottle of lube and busied himself rolling the plug between his hands, warming it. Darcy dropped her head forward, letting it thunk against the tempered glass of the desk. She felt like a bit of an amateur, actually, one foot awkwardly stretching toward the ground without its’ heel, her woefully inexperienced anus nervously waiting to be invaded ( _dramatic, who me?_ ) as she once again marveled over the fact that _she_ had landed a gig as the Avengers personal-

“ _Whoa._ ”

Darcy welcomed the hot and heavy pulse between her thighs as Tony neatly pressed the small plug into her pussy. Again, unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. “C’mon, Lewis,” Tony crowded her back, one hand on her hip and the other petting her bottom as he spoke in her ear, “Give me a little credit, I’d never forget my manners. Ladies first and all that.”

Somewhere in the room Darcy heard a distant snort and she was reminded that Pepper was still watching.

Darcy gave a satisfied little hum as Tony toyed with the plug, twisting it once, twice and then in reverse as he continued to stroke the curve of her ass. “You’re made for this, you know that, kid?” his breath was hot against her neck as his knee slipped between her legs and nudged them wider. He pumped the toy a few times, never quite pulling it out, then let his fingers slip forward to tease her clit.

“Really? I’ll be sure to tell Mom all that money we spent on - on, _uh_ , college was a waste.” She lost a little of her waspishness as she gasped out the statement.

“Careful, Lewis. You ratchet up the moral outrage anymore and you’ll sound like the Old Man. Don’t go getting your panties - the ones around your ankles - in a bunch. Being good at this doesn’t mean you aren’t shit hot at everything else.”

“This is your gig, _actual_ Old Man, but I gotta tell you, this was _so much_ sexier before you started talking.”

“Let’s shut me up then…” There was a slight grunt as Tony dropped to his knees and drummed his palms playfully against her ass before he parted her cheeks and leaned in to tongue her pussy, his mouth latching onto and sucking the exposed part of the plug. _God,_ Darcy thought, _I am going to Hell so fast._ Her forehead pressed against the cold glass while Tony busied himself, using his tongue to push and run around the sides of the plug, just the tip of his tongue trying press in alongside it as he circled. 

“Fu-” Darcy lifted her shoeless foot and bent her leg, propping her knee up onto the desk and sliding it out, trying to spread herself further for Tony. Anal training - despite having not yet actually encroached on her anus - was proving to be pretty fan-fucking-tastic. Tony’s tongue slipped past the plug to her clit and she found herself running hot and cold with arousal. Her breasts ached as she didn’t hide the fact that she was trying to press and rub them against the desk as Tony’s hand groped clumsily on the table beside her, seeking out the lube. She engaged her two remaining braincells to knock it toward the floor as he continued going down on her while he began to tug once more on the plug, light, tiny tugs and twists that stimulated but didn’t fill her nearly enough. It became a pattern for him, slow but precisely timed. She was panting, her body, her oh-so-near orgasm building with each sequence of tugs and twists. She was so focused on that, that she almost missed when Tony moved his oral attentions from her clit, nipped at her ass cheek with his teeth and then swiped his tongue over her as-yet undisturbed ass. Her toes wiggled in her one remaining heel but even the foreign sensation of his tongue pressing and circled around her ass wasn’t enough to to make her lose sight of what he was doing to her pussy.

“Tony, I really… I kinda, _really_ need to…”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” his voice was muffled as he started to pump and move the plug more quickly, picking up the pace but never losing the rhythm of his play. Then he played out a pro move, the fingers of one hand coming up to fret over her clit while the other hand pulled the plug from her pussy and his tongue pushed just once, but firmly, against her ass and wiggled in just a fraction. Too much was happening at once and the moment of overload set her off. She came with a surprised choking noise, her nails clicking over the table, her legs going limp and just hanging as Tony started to leisurely fuck her ass with his tongue. In the boneless seconds that followed Darcy vaguely heard the click of the lid on the tube of lube, felt his slicked up fingers working with his tongue until he had slipped one finger into her. It wasn’t a great stretch, just kind of peculiar as she lazily rolled her hips and sighed happily, still caught up in her post-orgasm haze.

“Another?” Tony asked.

“Mmmhm.”

The second was a little harder to take, but she proved an able study as she tilted her ass up a little and blew out a shaky breath. More lube, more time, more soft vague words of encouragement from Tony and there were both fingers in her ass to the first knuckle. No paroxysms of lust to speak of but it wasn’t… we’ll it didn’t suck. “Deeper?” she asked softly and Tony obliged. Slicked fingertips stroking their way into her tight passage, shifting and parting by degrees as Tony tried to ease his way into her. “Take a breath, Darcy, easy. _Easy._ ” A little shuffling as he stood, his focus still entirely on her ass. “Let it out.”

As she started to release the controlled breath Tony wasted no time in pulling his fingers free and easily slipping the plug into her ass. No pain, no discomfort. Only warmth and a peculiar fullness. There was an odd sort of comfort in the way Tony was passing his fingertip in featherlight movement over the seated plug, like an artist admiring his work. Against her thigh she could feel him hard behind the fly of his jeans and she wondered how long he’d leave the plug there before moving on to the next step in her education. His arms came around her waist, one hand coming up to cup her ribs, the other cupping her breast with a firm squeeze. 

“Stand up, Darcy,” he spoke gently against her neck. She was dazed, a little fuck-drunk and not entirely sure about the new sensation of the plug, but she stood without hesitation or doubt that Tony would support her if her legs wouldn’t. Her skirt fell back about her legs and she wobbled a little without her other heel. Once Tony had pressed her hands back to the table to make sure she’d be supported he squatted low to place her lost shoe back on her foot and then stood, dragging her underwear back up her legs as he moved.

“What are you-” Darcy blinked in confusion as he reached under her skirt, ensuring her panties were back in their proper place.

“I had a courier leave some paperwork in the foyer. You’re going to get it for me. You’re going to ask Jeanette from security how her kid’s piano lessons are going. Then you’re going to walk half a block. Order a coffee at Starbucks. Sit down and drink the coffee. Come back to the tower. Get on one of the elevators that only goes to the 87th floor, you’re going to get out then walk the remaining four flights of stairs to the penthouse. You’re going to drop the paperwork on my kitchen bench, then come to the master bedroom, undress for me and then beg me to fuck your very eager ass.”

A small whimper slipped from her before she managed to clear her throat. “Your first mistake is assuming I can walk half a block in these shoes.”

“Please, Pepper could run the New York Marathon in a pair of Louboutins. You’ll be fine.”

Damn him, but he was right. She’d been spending a lot of time in heels since coming to live in the Tower, she’d become a bit of a pro at walking in them. She’d become a pro at a lot of things, actually. “You can’t be serious.”

“Lewis,” he grabbed her hand and placed it over his crotch, rocking up onto his toes just in case there was any doubt about how hard he was. “This is going to hurt me far more than it’ll hurt you. In fact the idea is that it won’t hurt you. At all.”

“Yeah,” Darcy muttered as she grabbed her ID and purse and tried to compose herself enough to walk from the room, “You’re a real fuckin’ martyr Stark.”

“Lewis?” he called after her.

“What?”

“Unclench.”

 

* * *

 

Darcy slipped into the elevator and nervously jammed her thumb against the ground level button. Alone in the small space she came up onto her toes to try and eye the line of her dress, checking if anything seemed out of order at her backside. Not a damn thing, no visual indication that she was, at that very moment, being thoroughly debauched. That she was _complicit_ in her own moral decline. Really, there was nothing but the slight flush at her neck - just as much caused by he receding orgasm as by what was going on in her panties. How did she even feel? Really it shouldn’t take too much thought to answer that but she found herself frowning at her reflection. She felt kind of sexy, in a down-low dirty kind of way. Physically? Just… _weird._ She had something where things had not previously really been permitted, she felt a sort of twitchy not-quite-discomfort, it certainly wasn’t going unmarked in her head, but the idea of what she was doing was having far greater effect than the physical fullness she felt. Beyond that she marked a mildly embarrassing sort slickness between her thighs - a mixture of the surplus lube, her orgasm and her own continued excitement. God, she was actually a bit of a mess, she realised as her damp panties shifted against her bare skin.

“Jarvis?” she asked, “Did I, er, walk funny from the lab to the elevator?” What a question. Could he even answer that? 

A few second passed before he replied. “Initial footage analysis shows no abnormalities in your gait or stride, you are walking appropriately for a woman of your dimensions in such footwear. Do you suspect you are injured? Shall I summon medical assistance?”

“NO! Shit, no.” Darcy’s hand flew to her chest. “Nope. I’m good. That’ll be all, man.”

“As you like, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy slumped back against the wall of the elevator and passed one shaking hand over her heated face. Her cell began to ring and she was thankful for the momentary distraction. She slipped her cell from her small clutch and realized that it was Pepper calling. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure if she was thankful for the call. “Pepper?”

“Hi. Hello. I just wanted to, uh, catch you while Tony wasn’t around.” 

Darcy looked around the elevator. “Is there really anywhere that he isn’t, in some way, ‘around’?”

“When my family is in town he’s usually pretty scarce,” Pepper replied dryly. “Grab the paperwork from the foyer and call me back when you’re on the street.”

Darcy followed the instructions, both Pepper and Tony’s (Jeanette’s grandson, to hear her tell it in _excruciating_ detail, was the next Rachmaninov) and it wasn’t until she was stepping from the shade cast by the tower, paperwork firmly under her arm and heels clicking neatly as she set a reasonable pace (all things - _butt things_ \- considered) that she called Pepper.

“Darcy, Hi. Again.” There was an uncomfortable pause before Pepper continued. “Look, today took an unexpected turn for you. I saw that and I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“You mean transiting the inner city with a…” she cleared her throat and looked at the disinterested foot traffic around her. “Surprisingly, I’m okay.”

“There’s method to it, you know. What he’s doing.”

“At this exact moment, he’s probably having a scotch. Was this,” she paused, wondering if it was too personal a question to ask, but then asked anyway because, well, they had to be a little past personal questions by now, “Did he do this with you?”

Pepper sighed, “Unfortunately Tony wasn’t really my first anything. Well, that’s not true, I’ve had a lot of firsts with Tony, but not the traditional ones.”

This was her life. Anal sex was now a ‘traditional first’.

“Look,” Pepper continued, “My first, uh,” there was a pause and Darcy could have sworn she heard the clink of a bottle of wine against a glass, “My first anal sex was pretty awful. It was painful and embarrassing and not really something I ever agreed too. I was young, he had delusions of being the next Ron Jeremy and I didn’t really know that it was optional. If you let it stay on the contract because you felt like it is something that you ‘should’ do then don’t…”

“Pepper,” Darcy could see the dark green branding of the Starbucks less than a hundred feet away, “I want to. I’ve wanted to for a while, I just wasn’t sure how to broach it.”

“Consider it broached, I guess. You’re in good hands with Tony, he’s many things but he’s an excellent lover.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” Darcy shouldered her way into the Starbucks, the smell of coffee going a long way toward soothing her nerves. “You, uh, you want to watch when I go back?”

“If you’re comfortable with that, there’s nothing I’d like more.”

“I-” Darcy considered her words carefully. “I’m very comfortable with that. I was thinking, you know, if you ever wanted to… I don’t know. Something. I’m okay with that. You can alter the contract, put yourself on it. Or don’t. I’ll still, uh, I’d still see you. With Tony. Without.” God she was making an absolute ass (ha!) of herself.

“I do have a birthday coming up.”

Darcy stumbled as she made it to the line at the counter. “Good. _Great_.”

“I’m going to let you grab your coffee, Darcy.” Darcy could hear the smile in her voice. “Take your time, make him wait.”

 

* * *

 

Thirty-four minutes later Darcy stepping into the elevator for her return trip up the Tower, the doors had just begun to slide shut as she practically collapsed in a sweaty, overwrought blob against the wall of the elevator. 

“Darcy!” Someone called just seconds before the door slid shut. She knew the voice.

_No. Abso-fucking-lutely not. God wouldn’t be so cruel._

But since when had God gone around doing solid favors for women who traipsed around with sex toys inserted into delicate places?

She watched though the sliver of space between the doors as Steve made a dive for the button, halting her escape. She recomposed herself, stood up straight and put on a bland smile as Steve Rogers,  dewy-faced and sweat slicked from a run (or battling alien hordes, same/same for him really) elegantly bounded into the elevator. “Glad I caught you!” His demeanor was bright and sunny, far removed from the last time she’d seen him. It had been two weeks since they’d butt heads over her lifestyle choices and his snooty disapproval, his tightly forced smile suggested that he was about to try and smooth things over. The elevator doors slid shut - unfortunately with him on the wrong side of them - and Darcy gripped her purse and Tony’s paperwork with white-knuckled intensity. “I wanted to apologise about the last time we spoke.” And Darcy wanted to hear that apology, she really did. Just at, oh, _any_ other time. “I was out of line.”

“Damn straight you were.” She wasn’t sure if it was that she _literally_ had something stuck up her butt,  or if it was the heels - which despite what Tony said, were pinching a little - but she was in a take-no-prisoners sort of mood.

There was a slight pause as Darcy tried desperately not to eye the way that his damp shirt (did he own _nothing_ in the correct size?) clung to his torso or, worse, how his track pants draped over certain parts of his anatomy. Clearly she was already turned on beyond a reasonable level and even the smell of his sweat - man, city and straight up, no frills soap - was having a worrying effect on her.

“What floor?” she asked, a little alarmed at how hoarse her voice sounded. “This elevator doesn’t go to the Avenger’s floors, you know.”

“Oh, uh, sixty-eight. There’s, uh, there’s a gym on that floor.”

“I regret to inform you, Captain,” Jarvis’ voice cut into the small space of the elevator, “Your information is incorrect. Floor sixty-eight houses accounting.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” he passed a nervous hand over the back of his neck, his bicep flexing for gold as he moved, “That’s what I meant, I’m… uh. Doing my taxes. Lotta taxes to catch up on, you know? In the ice. Got a guy. Who’s helping me. With taxes.”

“Captain Rogers,” Jarvis again, “I would be glad to assess your financial-”

“Jarvis, man,” Steve bit out, “ _Not now._ ”

“He’s helpful,” Darcy shrugged, fully comprehending Steve’s pain.

“That he is. Of course I could ditch the accountant and take you out to a juice bar. I hear they’re all the rage. Sam tells me all the kids are doing it. Bit of kale, maybe some chia?” When he looked at her like that, crooked self-effacing grin and olive branch out held, she could feel her resolve weakening. But she’d be ten types of shithead if she took his offer or accepted a date while she was smack in the middle of a sexual engagement with another man. Wouldn’t she?

“I’m a little busy.”

She watched the realization dawn on his face, his throat working as though his mouth had suddenly become dry. She had to give him credit though, he recovered remarkably well. “Of course, I’m so sorry. You look,” he waved his hand at her, “Fantastic, and you’re on your way to…” It wasn’t outright revulsion, which was marked progress for him. “I guess I’m still the only schmuck not uh…”

“Fucking me? Yeah, you are. I’d hate to mislead you on that score.” She felt petty and mean. Here was a man that she was genuinely hung up on and her misplaced embarrassment was turning her into a bitch.

To her surprise, he didn’t flinch at her comment. Instead he fixed her with a steady gaze and spoke with a deep firm voice, “I’d still very much like to get that juice with you some time, Darcy. When you aren’t working.”

“A date, not a booking? That’s what you want?” Darcy asked with a small frown.

“I don’t know. Can we make that distinction?”

Darcy considered her answer carefully as the elevator doors opened into an open-plan office space. “I can,” she said as she nodded toward a bank of shocked accountants. “I just don’t think that _you_ can, Steve.”

 

* * *

 

“What were you expecting?” Tony spread his hands

“I don’t know, some flashing neon, sateen sheets and maybe a little Barry White playing softly.” It shouldn’t have surprised her, however, given that it was probably also Pepper’s bedroom that it was so lovely. Late afternoon light hit the curves of beautifully made beechwood furniture, the bed was made up with plump pale blue linen and the odd book or tasteful objets d’art scattered around gave it a homey sort of feel.

“I could always play some Barry,” Tony offered from where he was leaning back on the edge of the bed, bare toes absently rubbing against the thick white carpet.

“Thanks, I’ll pass,” Darcy tossed aside her purse and kicked off her heels.

“Good cup of coffee?” Tony asked as he casually unsnapped the top button on his jeans.

Darcy tried for a nonchalant shrug, “Not bad. I mean, I kept waiting for someone to stand up and start screaming and pointing at me. Felt as though I had a scarlet letter on my chest the whole way there and back…” she reached back to undo the zipper at the back of her dress, it loosened and slid forward giving her a chance to slip her shoulders frees the dress hung about her hips. She’d picked a cheery yellow lace bra, trimmed in pink ribbon. It might have seemed demure in the drawer, but with her nipples dark and obvious behind the lace it certainly caught Tony’s attention. Like she didn’t have it anyway?

“Darcy, you have any idea how you look right now? Not just the tits, although - _bravo._ ” He gave her an appreciative nod. “Walking down the street today… it’s cold out and there you are all summer and light. You look simultaneous untouchable and fuckable. You’re the woman most men and a fair few women want and only the luckiest get to have. It wasn’t a scarlet letter they saw, you were on a mission. You have sex on the mind and it shows. They were looking at a woman who glowed with lust."

Darcy looked away, hoping like Hell he couldn’t see how she flushed at his words. She pushed the dress over her hips with a wiggle and hop and let it drop to the floor. The pink of her panties was stained darker between her thighs and she was reminded that she was still very much a wet mess, not that Tony seemed to mind as he shucked his long-sleeved shirt and tossed it aside. His instructions had been to get naked, so she tried to aim for cool and calm as she removed her underwear. On the bed, Tony pushed his jeans and briefs down his legs and left them piled on the floor. He reclined a little further on the bed, knees spreading as his hand came down to grip and stroke at his already stiff cock. The tabloids, it appeared, had _not_ exaggerated the many flattering assessments of his endowments. It might even have been pleasing to note how prettily his neatly cut cock sat in his hand, or how his full round balls sat between his thighs. Might have been, were she not just a little apprehensive at the idea of trying to take him in her ass. The plug was there, a warm filling reminder of what was to come, but Tony’s dick did really look like the limit for what a sensible person should be putting in their ass.

“Is there something you wanted to ask me, Darcy?” he murmured as he languidly stroked himself.

Darcy pursed her lips and looks up to the ceiling thoughtfully as she absently played the fingertips of one hand over her nipples. “Actually, yes. _Does_ this job come with a 401K?”

He lunged for her with a little growl, gripping her by the upper arms and dragging her up against his body. He took a few minutes to rub against her, the light patterning of hair on his thighs tickling against her skin, the ripe head of his cock smearing precum over the soft swell of her stomach and the… she gasped as the hard warmth of the circular scar dominating his chest passed across her nipple. Her index finger traced his jaw as she whispered, “Fuck me.”

“Close, Lewis, but you can do better,” he told her as he tugged her back toward the bed. He sat back down and guided her until she was standing between his knees. He wasn’t shy about handling her as he turned her, hands all over her body, until she was facing away from him. Teeth nipped at the flesh of her behind, then he spoke again. “Bend over and _show_ me where you want me.”

If he thought she was past being embarrassed about this stuff… shit, he was kind of right. Still, it didn’t stop her eyes from rolling to the ceiling as she pressed her backside toward him, his hands coming up to grip her cheeks as she bent slightly at the hips. 

“Not enough,” he spoke, his breath against the small of her back.

She took a fortifying breath, shifted her feet further apart, and bent until her fingertips nearly brushed the ground.

“And?” he prompted as his thumb slid around to tap against the small handle of the plug. 

“Fuck my ass,” she said softly, desperately, to the carpet. “ _Please_.”

“Mmm, good girl.” Tony pulled her back by the hips, bringing her down onto the bed beside him. She twisted as she hit the mattress, turning onto her front because… well, that made sense right?

“On your back, Lewis.”

“What?”

“Give me a break, I’m living out a couple fantasies here. I want to see you, watch you. Indulge me.”

Indulge him? That was kind of the point.

She rolled onto her back, breasts swaying a little as she moved. Tony half-lifted, half-shoved her up the bed until her head hit the pillows. There was an oddly tender moment as he fluffed a pillow beneath her head and shoulders then dropped a kiss on her sternum before kneeling between her legs, hands stroking her thighs as he sat back on his heels and looked down at her with no small measure of heat in his eyes. “Going to fuck you now, Lewis.”

“‘Kay.”

“Knees up, wide. Spread. Fuck. Yes, there. That.” He grabbed a bottle of lube from beside them and poured a generous amount into his hand, warming it for a second before stroking it onto his cock. 

It didn’t seem to Darcy to be the most sexually arousing of poses, but she couldn’t argue results and the way that Tony was staring down at her - as if he’d very much like to eat her alive - had her fingers slipping down between her lewdly spread thighs to dip into her soaked, achey cunt. “Pretty little pussy,” Tony said, knuckles shining with lube as he jerked himself harder, “Feel good?”

“Always.”

“And this?” he reached out with his free hand an deftly twisted the plug, pulling it free without notice. 

Darcy’s hips bucked as her guttural moan bounced around the room.

“Thought so,” Tony said as he tucked his knees beside her hips and took his time applying a little more lube to her ass. This time she pressed her hips down as his finger pressed into her, he pulled it out, a little more lube then two fingers working into her as she circled her fingertip around her clit. He pressed her knees a little higher, a little wider until they framed her breasts and then he was slipping his fingers from her ass and pressing the fat, blunt head of his cock against her.

She tried not to stiffen, not to reveal any of her loitering reservations, but Tony was too good to miss it. He crouched forward, once more confusing her, as his lips and teeth latched on to one breast, teasing and tugging at one, then the other while he angled two - no, _shit,_ three - fingers into her cunt. It was the limit of what she could take and exactly what she needed. Her skin flushed and her thighs quaked and cramped while her fingers worked her clit and his fingers jammed roughly, but by no means painfully, into her. Credit where it was due, he was so adept at fucking her with his fingers that she only noted that he’d managed to press the head of his cock into her ass _after_ the fact. And while she absolutely cared about that - of course she did - she cared _much more_ about coming wetly against his hand. Which she did, _loudly_. 

Then, in those breathless seconds before the comedown, Tony firmly, confidently worked his cock until he was balls deep in her ass, all the while suckling and whispering sweet things against her breasts. He paused then, letting her take stock of what it felt like to be so insanely filled by him. In all their play she hadn't considered that it could feel good, hadn’t considered how it might have added to her own climax. She wriggled her hips a little beneath him.

“Hurts? Still so fucking tight, Lewis,” he cursed with a frown.

“No,” she whispered, “I want to feel you move.”

“Move?”

“ _Now._ ”

Slow at first, then a little more firmly, Tony fucked her ass letting her feel the hot drag of each inch of him within her. The lube warmed between them, the friction of his cock thrilled her and she wrapped her arms around his shoulder and flicked his sweat-damp hair back from his brow. The peculiar sensation drew a moan from her, prompting her to dart her tongue out over Tony’s jaw as she urged him, “Come in my ass.”

“ _Fu-”_

He’d been so good, so careful… so utterly unlike what she’d expected… she wanted, desperately, to see him let go. His rough cheek grazed against her breast and he hunched down and pressed his forehead against her sternum as he picked up the pace, his hips slapping her thighs as he fucked her for only a few minutes before stalling, ramming his cock deep and coming in jerky pumps within her.

Darcy stared, a little dazed, up at the ceiling as Tony caught his breath. Long seconds passed before he withdrew from her with an almost pained hiss. He reached down, fingers stroking gently over her well-fucked ass. “Still okay?” he asked as he settled down next to her.

“Yeah, actually, pretty damn good,” she nudged him with her elbow as she shifted onto her side letting her feet tangle with his. “Happy Birthday, Tony.”

 

* * *

 

It was growing dark when Darcy finally returned to her rooms in the Tower, but in the lowlights outside of her door she easily spotted the noxious green juice - the type that didn’t give you much change from a ten dollar note - seated at the threshold of her place. She picked up the full juice; most of the ice had already melted but she took a sip anyway. It tasted fucking horrendous, but she smiled anyway as she let herself into her apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. 
> 
> Not sorry.
> 
> Thanks to just-mindy for the Ameripick...


End file.
